


Free Me from the Light

by Renai_chan



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Bottom Steve, Deepthroating, F/M, Fame is not all it's cracked up to be, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Obi is a jerk (obviously), Paparazzi are jerks, Phone Sex, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Sexual Assault, Stripping, Sugar Daddy!Tony, Tony can charm his way out of a paper bag, Tony is a badass, Top Tony
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-04
Updated: 2015-05-14
Packaged: 2018-03-10 10:29:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 40,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3287000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Renai_chan/pseuds/Renai_chan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony loves doting on Steve--LOVES it. Steve is just so sweet and honest and grateful and nice, and Tony can't help but proudly show him off to everyone and fawn over him with outrageous gifts and favors. The fact that he's hot, too, and that the sex is awesome doesn't even begin come in to play (though it certainly doesn't hurt).</p><p>But then, the media and the public in general isn't known to be kind to relationships between billionaire bachelors and struggling young art students.</p><p>And you can imagine how well <i>that</i> goes over with Steve.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lilmoongodess](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilmoongodess/gifts).
  * Translation into 中文 available: [Free Me from the Light](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7472841) by [welldoer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/welldoer/pseuds/welldoer)



> So, this fic is a blatant (and probably poor) attempt to write a sugar daddy!fic. It was written as a thank you to lilmoongodess whose fic [My Private Dancer](https://archiveofourown.org/works/615767) both inspired this fic and brought a great deal of joy to me on a really shitty day: New Year's Day 2013 (and yes, this has been languishing in my hard drive since then). Reading her fic was the one bright spot to my day, so I wanted to write this to show my gratitude (which may be a little bit weird and fan-girly because aside from a brief exchange in some comments, we haven't actually spoken to each other --;; If you'd like to, though, lilmoongodess, hit me up :D).
> 
> I try not to post chaptered fics because I _suck_ at finishing these, but this fic is growing at a rate not conducive to a one-shot, and at the speed I'm writing, it would probably take another two years to complete. So I've decided to post in installments. I have about 14k of words written, which means a good bunch of chapters, and plan to write one for every one I put up, so I'm in pretty good shape so far.
> 
> Unbeta'd as of yet, but if anyone's interested, hit me up (I got my email posted in my profile, or you can just leave a comment here), and I'll send you what I've got :)

There was a perfectly good smoking lounge just off the ballroom. It was of a good size and yet emulated the intimacy of an authentic Victorian gentleman’s parlor. It had a wide range of high-quality cigars and cigarettes and pipes and what-have-you from several different countries, free for the taking should a patron have failed to bring his own. It had comfortable seating and soft lighting and the musty, enticing smell of old books and smoke. There was a privacy there, despite the presence of other patrons, that allowed for the quiet thought that many smokers often sought.

Still, Tony chose to sit his Armani-clad self on a dirty stoop at the employee entrance-cum-smoking area in the alley behind the hotel. 

His right arm was propped on his knee, and in his fingers loosely dangled a lit cigarette from which a steady stream of smoke rose. He lifted the cigarette to his lips and sucked in a breath before slowly blowing out the smoke that masked the faint smell of piss of the alley. His eyes shut as he allowed the peace that the empty area afforded him to clear his mind.

In a few minutes, he’d have to go back into the gala and make nice towards his investors and board members and stockholders. He’d have to put on his fake smile—the one that felt more natural on him than any real smile he’d ever given—and ham it up for the reporters. He’d flirt with the pretty ones and suck up to the rich and powerful ones and impress each and every guest there because he was Anthony Fucking Stark and that was what he did. 

But for now... For now, he was Just Tony, sitting on a dirty stoop and sucking on a cigarette.

“Guests aren’t allowed back here, you know?” someone pointed out. His voice was soft and non-accusatory and velvety, so Tony deigned to relinquish his moment of peace.

“I could buy the hotel if it made you feel better,” he answered without opening his eyes. And he could, really, but then Pepper would skin him for adding another thing on top of the million things she was already taking care of, and Obi would whine that he wasn’t focusing on what was important. 

There was a soft chuckle.

“I’d settle for a stick if you have any left. I promise not to tell on you.” This time, Tony conceded to open one eye and glance up at the tall blond waiter who was staring down at him.

He’d seen the waiter before—how could he have not? He was easily a head taller than most of the people at the gala. He was blond and blue-eyed and was drop dead gorgeous, and Tony wondered why no one had offered him yet a modeling contract (or maybe they had, but that only brought up the question of why was he still a waiter).

He held out the pack of his cigarettes and his custom, exorbitantly expensive lighter that was Obi’s gift to him. The waiter said nothing about it and lit up his own cigarette.

“These are good,” he commented after a few puffs.

“They’re European,” Tony shrugged and then no other words passed between them for the next half hour.

Eventually, Tony had to finish off the last of his cigarette lest Pepper start looking for him because therein only lie trouble. He stubbed it out on the stoop beside him and made to stand up, only to have a hand shoved in his face. The billionaire looked up to see the waiter offering a helping hand, and he considered it for a moment before grasping it and using it to pull himself up. 

He brushed himself off and righted his clothes and took another moment—this one much, much longer than the first—to consider the second offering in the waiter’s outstretched hand: his cigarette pack and lighter. 

He looked up into the bright blue eyes and simply said, “Keep them,” before turning around and walking back into his world.


	2. Chapter 2

There was a reason why Pepper was indispensable. 

It wasn’t because she was actually running the company behind Tony’s flash and pomp, no; Tony was every bit the genius behind SI’s success as the media raved he was, despite the occasional—or frequent, depending on whom you ask—forays into irresponsible partying. Although his genius for engineering couldn’t be paralleled, his talent for business, coupled with his infamous charm and cutting wit, was just as highly regarded as the defining factor that brought the company to soaring heights and investors to their knees.

No, Pepper was indispensable because she was Tony’s rock.

When Tony brought the company to soaring heights, and himself along with it, she was the one who pulled him back down to reality. When those occasional forays into irresponsible partying turned frequent, she was the one who reminded him about the things he really wanted in life. When his genius for engineering overrode his common sense and attention to basic human needs like food and sleep, she was the one who pulled him out of his own mind.

As such, Tony had quickly decided that he was going to shower all the love and attention he could spare in thanks for her whipping him into shape, getting him to the charity event and standing him at the entrance, posing for the media, at precisely the moment that the blond waiter from that gala a couple of months back climbed out of the car right behind Thor and Loki Odinsson.

He reigned in his kneejerk reaction of leaving his current audience in favor of making eyes at either of the Odinssons in hopes of gaining the attention of the blond only because Pepper was right there. And maybe because the small, small part inside of him, fondly named “Just Tony,” was telling him that any moment with the waiter was meant for no one else but him.

That moment was found three hours later after Tony had studiously followed the blond’s every movement until he walked out a set of doors that Tony knew led to a private set of gardens, just behind the temporary kitchen set-up. No guest who knew of its existence would think to go there if only because of its proximity to the servants’ area, which was precisely the reason Tony knew that this was the perfect opportunity to catch the waiter alone.

True enough, the man was sat on one of the benches by himself, his head tipped back and eyes shut, looking remarkable under the garden lights.

“Guests aren’t allowed back here, you know?” Tony echoed, three months too late, cheek and confidence coloring his voice. The blond grinned and then slowly peeked one eye open to glance at him.

“I can’t cover for you this time, Mr. Stark,” he answered, bypassing the comment altogether.

“Ah, but as it so happens, this time around I do own the place,” Tony thought it was necessary to point out with both his words and his finger guns. The waiter nodded mock-gravely.

“Indeed you do.” The man sat up properly, both eyes trained on Tony this time. Tony held his gaze evenly, studying the blue eyes, the strong cut of his jaw and the bulge of his muscles beneath the suit that was simultaneously too big and too small for him, and wondered what he would look like in clothes that had actually been made for him.

Or better yet, out of clothes altogether.

“I’m afraid you have me at a disadvantage because you know who I am, yet here I am, wondering who you are,” the CEO said as casually as he could manage, which was pretty damn casual because Tony could talk his way out of a paper bag; feigning emotion with his voice was pie to him. 

“Steve Rogers,” the blond said easily, standing and holding out his hand to shake. Like before, it was warm and calloused, and Tony wondered what it would feel like wrapped around his cock.

“You’re a guest of the Odinssons’?” he asked, and Steve nodded.

“I’m friends with Thor. We’re on the football team together,” he offered. Tony couldn’t help but notice how he hadn’t yet pulled his hand away and so neither did Tony.

“University?” he asked again because even if he didn’t know the eldest son of Odin, owner of Asgard, Inc., personally, he made sure to know everything about his business associates and competitors—it was only good business practice—which was why he knew Thor attended Wagner College. It wasn’t a surprise that Steve was about the same age; although Steve was gorgeous and definitely fuckable, it was as clear as day that he was so much younger than Tony. Not that that was any deterrent. 

Steve nodded.

“Yeah,” he said, and then added wryly, “Art student. Hence, the waitering.” Tony lifted an eyebrow.

“Student? Don’t you mean model?” He slathered on the charm and reigned in the sleaze with which a line like that would have uttered by any normal human. Being Tony, though, meant that it got him a blush that started at the roots of Steve’s hair and stopped abruptly just above his collar. Tony was willing to bet that it went further down though and realized that he’d give a lot just to see where it ended. Steve shot him an ‘aw shucks’ grin that had Tony’s pants shrinking. Or maybe that was just him growing. “So,” he started, casually rubbing his thumb in circles over Steve’s. “Are you with Thor? Or just with him?” Steve looked confused for a moment before he understood what Tony was saying, then shook his head and brought back his boyish smile.

“No, Mr. Stark, I’m just his plus one for tonight,” he answered. Inwardly, Tony’s smile turned predatory, but outwardly, he had on a charming smile that could have staunch virgins offering themselves to him for his baser pleasures. He hoped Steve wasn’t immune.

“Ah, well, in that case, I hope neither of you mind if I do this,” he said and tugged Steve closer to him, planting his lips over the younger man’s. He didn’t appreciate that he had to lift himself up slightly to reach said lips, but he tossed the thought aside quickly; that could be easily remedied later when he had Steve on his knees.

The art major succumbed quickly to Tony and parted his lips to allow his tongue in, which Tony shamelessly took full advantage of because Steve’s mouth was warm and sweet with the taste of the sparkling wine from the party. His hand shifted from Steve’s palm to his waist, tugging the blond more firmly against him, while his other settled over the back of Steve’s neck, preventing escape—not that Steve would have, seeing as his own hands were clasped tightly around the lapels of Tony’s dinner jacket.

He assaulted the pliant mouth against his with a gentle ferocity Tony usually reserved for people he liked well enough to merit a second date—or a second fuck, whichever came first—and was elated at the elicited response. Moans vibrated between them, quiet and heady, and Steve rutted against his hip with tiny, tiny movements that Tony was willing to bet he didn’t even realize he was doing. It was because of those that he pulled away.

“Come with me?” he asked to stop Steve’s silent protests. He didn’t doubt his prowess and, consequently, his ability to get Steve to agree; nevertheless, there was a second’s hesitance in Steve’s response that Tony resolved to quash by the end of the night. They sidestepped the ballroom altogether, going the long way round to the parking garage where Tony found Happy waiting by his Rolls. Steve took a moment to appreciate the car before climbing in the back when Tony held the door open for him. “To the penthouse, Happy,” Tony said and saw the nod before turning back to Steve while the dividing window rolled up.

“Isn’t this your house? Why are we leaving? Won’t they look for you?” Steve asked while the mansion faded into the night.

“I prefer the penthouse; the mansion is in dire need of an upgrade before I even think about moving back,” Tony answered quickly before covering Steve’s mouth with his own again. Steve gently pushed him away after one kiss.

“And your guests?” Tony made a small sound of impatience while he tugged at Steve’s tie.

“Happy would have notified Pepper. Obi will take over,” he said then decided that their conversation had been going on for too long. He used the tie in his hand as leverage to pull Steve to him and, more importantly, keep him there, and, luckily, Steve shared the sentiment and responded eagerly. Again, he plundered the blond’s willing mouth with his tongue, mapping out every nook and crevice for future use. His other hand, the one not caught in the tie, tugged at Steve’s belt and fly, popping open the button and exposing his brief-clothed cock. Once he got a hand on it, though, he had to pull away from the kiss and take a good, long look at the outline because, dear God, Steve was _hung_. His eyes flicked up to Steve’s face where he saw the younger man sported a flush. “Oh, I’m going to have so much fun with you,” he murmured with one of his patented grins before reconnecting their mouths while, this time, stroking Steve.

The blond moaned and writhed deliciously under his attention, and Tony had to count to twenty just to keep from stripping him the rest of the way and taking him right there. He left Steve’s lips well alone to nibble and suck at his neck so that he could hear the moans form around words that were hardly audible, much less coherent. He resolved to change that by slipping his hand beneath the briefs and twisting it around his cock. Steve gasped.

“Oh!” he cried softly. “Oh, fu—yes, like that, just like that. Please, Mr. Stark!” Tony groaned against the flesh against his mouth at the wanton cries. He stroked him faster and harder, sliding his thumb over the precome-moistened tip. “Please, please, please…” Steve whimpered as Tony pulled away completely to work him properly. The sounds he made were absolutely glorious, but he slapped a hand over Steve’s mouth because while Happy was used to Tony’s escapades, he did like to preserve some amount of privacy between the two of them. 

Besides, Steve’s begging was for him alone to hear.

“I’ll have you screaming for me later,” Tony promised. “But for now you’ll be silent when I make you come.” Steve’s eyes widened, but he nodded, and when Tony lifted his hand away, his lips were pressed shut. Tony gave them an appreciative lick before resuming jerking him off with a finesse borne of years of experience. Steve clutched at Tony’s shoulder and the seat beside him while the billionaire jacked him off. He tossed his head back and bit his lip to stifle his moans, and Tony found that so incredibly endearing. He pressed his lips to the shell of Steve’s ear and whispered, “Come on, baby. I want to see you come undone; I want to watch you come, and then when we get to my place, I’ll make you beg for me to fuck you hard and fast and ruin you.”

It took three tugs and a few dirty words more before Steve buried his face in Tony’s neck and shuddered as he came. “You’re so hot, babe,” Tony praised as his hand was liberally coated with Steve’s come. When the blond had stopped shuddering, Tony pressed a kiss to his temple and pulled out his handkerchief to wipe off the fluid. He settled back against the seat, watching Steve catch his breath, and, when he recognize the street they turned on to, reached over to tuck Steve back into his pants and said with a grin, “Nearly there.”


	3. Chapter 3

His condominium building was one of the most expensive in New York. It was tasteful and modern and minimalistic and was located in the area with the best bars and clubs in the East Coast. Tony had made a bid for the penthouse as soon as the project had been announced before any lesser millionaire or, worse, a socialite with parents with deep pockets could make eyes at it. As such, he was able to coerce—or wheedle, depending on who you asked—the developer into making allowances for his own requests during construction. The finished place was three stories high, larger than an average suburban home, as high-tech as Tony’s brain could make it (which was pretty fucking high-tech) and custom made for him down to each and every wall socket.

Here, Happy pulled up, and a doorman opened the door for them. Tony stepped out first then held his hand out to Steve. He grinned at the blush on the younger man as he accepted the helping hand, but refused to relinquish the hold while he dragged him through the lobby and into the waiting elevator. There, he backed him into a corner and pressed their lips back together, making sure to grind himself against the other’s hips. Steve moaned through a half-hearted protest at the public display and then quite suddenly pushed him away when a little old lady stepped into the car with them. Tony snickered softly while Steve righted himself.

“Hello, Mrs. Donovan,” he greeted smoothly as the doors shut behind her.

“Hello, Anthony. Lovely evening we’re having,” she said.

“Well it certainly is now,” Tony answered, sweeping her hand into his and pressing a kiss to the back of it. She giggled. “Where’s that pretty, young thing you’ve been dragging around these days?” Mrs. Donovan smacked him lightly in the chest.

“Oh, shush. I’ve been with Henry longer than you’ve been born; he’s hardly a pretty, young thing.” Then she turned a speculative eye on Steve who blushed. “Not like that one you’ve got there.” Tony laughed.

“Good evening, ma’am,” Steve greeted weakly, rubbing the back of his neck in a nervous gesture.

“My, my. So polite too! What in the world are you doing with this rapscallion here?” she asked with a teasing wink. Steve held his smile as the elevator dinged. “Well, you boys have fun, now.” She turned to walk out. “And don’t do anything I would do.” Tony’s laugh was uproarious, but he managed to get in a last ‘What does that leave? Chess?’ before the doors shut. Mrs. Donovan gave a backwards wave as the doors slid shut and then Steve let out the breath he was holding.

“She was nice,” he managed after a moment. Tony titled his head and grinned at him.

“She’s one of the few people who still like me after they’ve caught me debauching pretty, young things in this elevator.” Steve blushed brightly at the compliment while Tony slid closer and wrapped his arm around his waist. “And speaking of debauching…” They kissed again, slow and sensual. Despite the initial hesitance, Steve quickly yielded to him because Tony was just that good. He moaned softly and rocked against the CEO’s hips until the elevator dinged and opened onto the top floor. 

Tony tugged him out without parting lips and pressed him up against the wall of the hallway that fronted the main door. There, their kiss deepened and grew more needy, more sloppy, and they fumbled at each other’s clothes. Tony managed to pull away slightly so that decency could take a foothold and pry them apart only far enough that Tony was able to drag Steve to and through the door. After that, self-control was left there, as were jackets, shirts, pants and other articles of clothing. 

Tony pushed Steve onto the nearest sofa, following him down and grinding against him. He was vaguely surprised to feel Steve’s hardening erection beneath him, but not enough to break their kiss. He chalked it up instead to age and then promptly forgot about it when Steve did his very best to make him see stars.

“Will you let me suck you, Mr. Stark?” Steve asked and Tony had to count to twenty once more to keep from coming. He focused on the “Mr. Stark” part of the request to help, wondering if he should ask Steve to change it, but the title made what they were doing less intimate and more forbidden, thus hotter, so he let it pass for the time being.

“Not today, babe. I don’t think I’d be able to last that long,” he regretfully admitted. The frown on Steve’s face made him want to reconsider, but no. He wasn’t a twenty-something anymore. “Rain check?” he added which made Steve smile. “Come on. I’ve got lube and condoms in the bedroom.” He stood and tugged Steve up, pulling him through the large and lavish apartment buck-naked. 

It didn’t escape him that there was a bright blush on Steve’s face as they walked and that he kept looking around, most likely wondering if anyone was around. “Jarvis won’t bother us tonight,” he decided to say. The teasing tone completely escaped the mortified blond, but by the time he was going to say anything, they had reached the bedroom. 

Tony pulled the younger man back against him, ghosting his lips over the skin below Steve’s ear. 

“On the bed,” he instructed softly. “I want you on your hands and knees.” Steve licked his lips and then nodded before climbing onto the bed and crawling his way up. Tony refrained from saying out loud what he thought about that, but the way his dick throbbed was telling enough to him. He walked around the side to the nightstand and pulled out the aforementioned items from the drawer. He tossed them on the bed just beside Steve and climbed up onto the bed behind him, caressing the pert cheeks when he settled there. “Show yourself to me,” he requested and could almost _feel_ the heat of Steve’s blush. The blond complied easily, though, pressing his cheek onto a pillow and then reaching around to spread himself apart.

Tony held back a moan at the sight of the fluttering hole because he was _experienced_ dammit. He only licked his lips instead but didn’t hold back on the urge to stroke it lightly. Steve pressed his face into the pillow to muffle his moan while his hands quivered and his hips shifted at the touch. Tony found he didn’t like that, though, so he gave a quick, sharp smack to one thigh and reprimanded him.

“I want to hear you,” he said. “You’re going to moan for me, you’re going to beg and you’re going to scream as loud as you have to, as you want to. I don’t care who you think can hear us. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Mr. Stark,” Steve answered, breathy but determined, so Tony kissed one ass cheek as a reward. Predictably, Steve moaned and shifted his hips yet again.

“I’m going to fuck you now,” Tony said against his ass, his lips dragging over the skin.

“Yes, Mr. Stark. _Please_ ,” Steve answered, and there was such _want_ in his voice that Tony didn’t waste any more time. He grabbed the lube and coated three of his fingers. He circled Steve’s entrance with one finger, coating it with slick before sliding said finger in, straight to the knuckle. Steve’s moan was _beautiful_ , and this time, Tony didn’t hold back a moan of his own.

“God, that’s perfect,” he said, sliding the finger in and out and pressing against the walls to stretch it just enough for the second finger. Steve was panting heavily when he slipped it in but was grinding back against both digits anyway. Tony kissed his ass cheek again, laving it with his tongue, while he worked open the hole. “Fuck, you’re so tight,” he said when the walls clenched around his fingers. He added the third finger just to see how Steve would react to it—gorgeously, just as Tony predicted. “Has anyone taken you here, Steve? Has anyone fucked your tight ass? Spread you open and left you gaping wide? Because, let me tell you, you’re so fucking tight around my fingers.” Steve whimpered at the words and at the fingers, so it took him a moment to respond.

“No, sir,” he mumbled through several moans.

Tony stopped, surprised.

“No one?” he asked slowly, and Steve lifted his head to look over his shoulder at him. He looked determined.

“Is that going to be a problem?” His question was harshly said, and Tony nearly laughed in surprise. The younger man acted as though Tony found it offensive to be fucking a virgin—quite the contrary, really—but Tony was having a moment of conscience as the older adult in the room.

“Steve.” He enunciated his words carefully. “I would _gladly_ and with great relish and attention to detail pop your cherry for you, but… are you sure? Aren’t you saving yourself for someone special?” Steve scowled.

“You’re mistaking me for a girl, Mr. Stark. _No_ , I am not saving myself. It’s not a big deal, and I wouldn’t have agreed to come if I didn’t want this,” he answered.

“Okay, but just to be clear, you _are_ of age, right?” The scowl deepened and Tony tried not to chuckle. 

“I’m twenty one, if that’s what you’re asking. Do I have to present a birth certificate?” Tony watched him for a second more, watching the scowl still firmly painted on his face, but Tony decided that he was right; he knew what Tony was offering and wouldn’t have agreed to come—and Tony wouldn’t have pushed him—if he didn’t want to be here. And as long as he was of age, it was fine. Completely fine. More than fine. In response to his question, Tony shoved his fingers back in him just this side of roughly. Steve’s scowl dropped off his face and he moaned.

“Well, in that case, babe, who am I to say no to an offer like that?” The genius spread his fingers, stretching and working the tight passage. He added a smidge more lube to the hole before withdrawing his fingers completely. Steve buried his face briefly into the pillow before turning his head to the side while Tony slipped on a condom and kneeled behind him. He moaned when Tony rubbed the lubricated head of his cock over the quivering hole. “This is going to hurt,” he thought to warn. “But I need you to relax, okay?” Steve nodded and Tony pushed.

Steve was so, so tight, so Tony had to exert so much effort to find the right shade between strong and slow. He murmured words of praise and lewd promises while he fought against Steve’s tightness and his own desire to take and take and take. Steve moaned and whimpered beautifully, not once complaining against the slow burn. Tony watched as Steve’s ass stretched around the head of his cock, swallowing it greedily, and when the head finally popped through, both of them moaned loudly.

“Fuck. Fuck, Steve, so fucking tight,” Tony said through gritted teeth. He took a moment to pause, to allow Steve to adjust and to keep himself from coming all too soon, but eventually, he said, “I’m going to move now, okay? Just relax and it’ll get better, I promise.” He saw Steve’s nod so he pushed himself in further, loving the way the pink ring encircled his cock. He was as slow as he could possibly force himself to be, but it didn’t help that Steve was whimpering again and again, “please, please, please.”

“Yeah, baby, almost there, almost there and then I’m going to fuck you, and it’s going to be so good, I promise.” Tony pressed kisses to Steve’s spine, and when he was finally sheathed in Steve’s hole, he pressed his forehead against his back and let out a groan. Steve was trembling beneath him, so he pressed more kisses against his back and reached around to stroke at his cock. To that, Steve broke and suddenly started babbling.

“Oh, god, Mr. Stark, please. Pleasepleaseplease,” he whimpered, his hips thrusting so, so very slightly into Tony’s hand. “Please, I want it, I want it, _please_.”

“Shhh,” Tony murmured, but he complied with slow and short movements that picked up with each thrust. His cock glided in and out of the tight heat while his hand glided over Steve’s cock.

“Pleasepleasepleaseyes,” Steve whimpered, starting his own motions to meet Tony’s thrusts.

And then Tony was finally, _finally_ fucking Steve in earnest, his cock pulling out almost completely and pushing back in with force, and Steve was sobbing and begging for more and more and more than Tony think he could handle, but he gave him what he wanted because Steve was so fucking beautiful as he came undone. He let go of Steve’s cock and gripped his hips and tore into him bruisingly.

“Take it, Steve. God, yes… _take it_ ,” he hissed as he thrust. Steve moaned his assent. His hands were curled around the moistened pillow beneath his cheek, grounding him as he did. Tony dared not close his eyes, instead flicking his gaze between Steve’s face and his ass. Then he shifted his hips into the angle that he knew would hit Steve’s prostate. He did, dead center and full force, and Steve _screamed_. 

Tony squeezed his eyes shut and came as the ass around his cock clenched onto him, squeezing his orgasm right out of him. He groaned as his cock pumped out his seed, and he took a second to think about how he wished to someday fuck Steve bare and see the come trickle out of his fucked-out hole. When the last of his come spurted out of him, he groaned softly and pressed his forehead to Steve’s sweaty back as he pulled himself out. He slipped onto his side on the bed as he tugged the condom off and tied it up before dropping it off the edge. Beside him, Steve had his face pressed to the pillow, and his shoulders were shaking.

“Hey,” Tony murmured, pressing his lips to Steve’s shoulder. “You okay?” Steve rolled onto his side to face Tony and smiled softly at him. He nodded then leaned over to kiss Tony on the mouth.

“Thank you,” he said. “I—I’ll just catch my breath and… I’ll go.”

“No, hey, wait,” Tony said, sitting up. “You can stay if you want. I mean… You don’t…” Tony looked around grasping for words. He didn’t really want Steve to go, did he? “You can stay here… if you want.” He scooted closer and brushed the blond hair out of Steve’s eyes. Steve smiled weakly, but nodded anyway.

He made breakfast for Tony that morning and gave him a lovely thank you note, and on top of that note sat the lighter Tony had given him when he didn’t yet know his name, but by the time he had woken up, Steve was gone.


	4. Chapter 4

“Tony—,” Pepper started as Tony made his way through the halls of Wagner College. One student who was too immersed in her textbook bumped into her, cutting her off. The other students milling in the hall stepped to the sides as Tony strode between them, parting them like a particularly obnoxious ship would to the sea. “Tony!” Pepper repeated, exasperated as she finally managed to catch up when he stopped to wait for her.

“ _What_ , Pep?” Tony asked in equal amounts of exasperation. He was on a _mission_ here.

It took him five days--five days of denying himself, of staying away, of telling himself that this was all for the better because Steve and he? They weren’t compatible; they couldn’t possibly work in any way that made sense. Tony was a genius billionaire playboy philanthropist war profiteer with severe personality defects and daddy issues a mile wide. He was rich, handsome, charming, and scum of the Earth. Steve was… well, he was everything Tony wasn’t. 

On the sixth day, though, Tony cracked.

“What in the world are we _doing_ here?” she asked. Tony shifted and looked around, but refrained from answering her. “Is it about that kid from the gala?” she asked again. He refused to answer again, which only made her sigh in annoyance. “Tony, please—”

“I like him, okay? Is that what you wanted to hear me say?” he asked, cutting her off. “I’m acting like a goddamn teenager because I like him and I want him. And you’re free to form your own damn opinions about that, but I am going to find him because he walked out on me before I could keep him.”

“Tony—”

“Pep, please,” he continued, cutting her off once more because he knew if she spoke, she would bear the voice of _reason_ ; reason didn’t go hand in hand with infatuation and he had room for only one right now. And right now, he wanted Steve. “I’m an adult, and he’s an adult, so would you please let me make my own goddamn decisions about this and _back off_?” Pepper suddenly looked so hurt at that that Tony quickly and guiltily backtracked. “I’m sorry,” he said, running his hand through his hair. It wasn’t the impeccable coif he reserved for galas and board meetings and media events, so he didn’t mind messing it up a bit. “I’m sorry. I… I won’t mess this up for you or for the company, okay? But please let me have this?” Pepper’s hurt look transitioned into concern.

“Oh, Tony,” she said as her shoulders drooped in a way that had Tony eating himself with guilt. “It’s not the company I’m worried about, and it’s going to take a lot more than a fling for you to mess me up. I just want you to think about what’s best for you before you start jumping into quasi-relationships, okay? Not everyone gets you the way Rhodey, Happy, and I do and not everyone wants you for _you_.” Tony gave her a brief smile.

“Contrary to popular belief, Pepper, I do know what I’m doing,” he answered. “But I’ll keep that in mind.” He waited for her to nod once and then turned on his heel and walked towards his intended destination, leaving her in the middle of an interested group of spectators and their cellphones.

He glanced into the classroom briefly, spotting Steve almost immediately in the center, then glanced at the professor. Without further ado, though, he threw open the door and stepped through, drawing all eyes to him. The professor’s eyes flew open in shock, and he dropped the piece of chalk he was holding when Tony beamed at him and the rest of the student body, most of which were taking photos of him with their phones.

“Don’t mind me, please,” he said with a placating gesture. Not that that helped. “I was just wondering if I could borrow a Steve Rogers for a moment?” Heads whipped to a stunned Steve who looked around before making a ‘who me?’ gesture. Tony nodded once, and Steve gathered up his belongings. He saw Steve say something to a brown-haired male beside him Tony didn’t recognize before walking down the center aisle.

“I’m very sorry, sir,” he apologized to the professor before walking out the door ahead of Tony who gave a gesture of goodbye to everyone else before following him out. Steve was looking at him expectantly, but around him, more people were taking pictures. “Mr. Stark?”

“Come with me, Steve,” Tony said, making his way through the hallway once more, back to where Happy and Pepper were standing beside the car. Pepper took a step closer to them and held out her hand with an amiable smile. 

“Hello. I’m Pepper Potts. I’m Mr. Stark’s personal assistant,” she said. Steve shook her hand politely.

“Steve Rogers,” the younger man offered. “Mr. Stark’s… um…” He looked to Tony who grinned and shrugged. “Yeah, what he said,” Steve finished. Pepper’s smile turned amused.

“I understand,” she said and turned to the car where Happy was holding the back door open. “If you please?” Tony allowed Steve to climb in first while Pepper and Happy climbed into the front which was closed off by the divider.

As soon as the car door shut behind him, though, Tony suddenly found himself with a lapful of blond, and his mouth was assaulted by Steve’s. He didn’t particularly mind because Steve’s mouth was delicious. He pulled the younger man closer, inadvertently rubbing their cocks against each other’s and eliciting moans from the both of them. Steve did his part by rocking his hips against Tony’s and licking his way into his mouth, and Tony nearly forgot why he pulled Steve out of class.

“Will you let me suck you now, Mr. Stark?” Steve whispered against his mouth.

Okay, scratch that—Tony _completely_ forgot. 

“Fuck yes,” he groaned, and Steve climbed off of his lap and onto his knees on the floor of the roomy town car. “You have done this before, right?” he suddenly thought to ask while Steve wrestled with his belt. Steve shot him a smirk.

“I’m not _completely_ inexperienced,” he answered and then his breath ghosted over Tony’s finally free cock, and Tony forgot what they were talking about. He tangled his hands in Steve’s hair and tugged at the strands in an invitation for him to put his cock in his mouth. Steve, unsurprisingly enough, was compliant. He licked his lips and parted them to take the tip of Tony’s cock into his mouth and suckle on it gently. Tony refused to close his eyes at the sight of Steve’s lips gliding over his length, and he repressed the need to thrust upwards. 

“God, you’re gorgeous,” he said instead, stroking Steve’s hair as he bobbed up and down. “Look at you. So eager,” he added because he wasn’t used to silences, even in the heat of sex. “What I would have given to have been first at that mouth of yours…” Steve’s tongue flicked over the tip and earned a moan from the CEO, but then he pulled off completely to lick up and down the sides and then at his balls, so Tony didn’t mind the draft that chilled his cock even while Steve stroked him. “You’re going to be a good boy and swallow down all my come, won’t you?” he asked. Steve’s eyes flicked up to meet his while he nodded.

“Yes, Mr. Stark,” he murmured. Tony’s eyebrows drew together slightly.

“’Tony,’” he said.

“What?” Steve asked between licks.

“You should stop calling me ‘Mr. Stark.’ You can call me ‘Tony,’” he instructed. Steve pulled away long enough for his surprise to transition into a beatific smile and then his mouth was back on Tony’s cock and driving him insane. Tony was only human, despite what many lauded him to be, so it didn’t take long for him to cry his release into Steve’s warm mouth. The student dutifully drank him down and had the audacity to lick his lips afterward, so Tony pulled him closer and kissed the life out of him. He tried to reciprocate, but Steve pulled out of his grasp.

“Tony,” he said, trying the name out on his tongue, and Tony wanted to kiss him again. Steve only grinned at him though. “Did you really just pull me out of class for a blowjob?” Tony’s eyebrows lifted slightly.

“As I recall, the blowjob was your idea,” he pointed out. Steve’s grin only widened. Then Tony sighed and ran his hand through his hair. “I told you you could stay, you know?” he said, hating the way Steve’s smile dimmed.

“It was fine, Tony. I get it, I do,” the younger man said with a sigh of his own. “You’re Tony Stark and having one night stands is what you do. I didn’t expect anything different just because I was a virgin when you fucked me.” Tony frowned in thought because while Steve was right, he didn’t like that he was.

“And that is precisely why I want you to stay now,” he answered. Steve looked skeptical.

“Why? Because I was a virgin?” he asked.

“Because you didn’t expect anything different from me,” Tony corrected. “Do you have any idea how novel that is for someone like me? People... They look at me and see a spoiled, rich playboy, and they think that because I slept with them, I suddenly owe them. They think that because they stayed the night, somehow I am magically in love with them and will give them anything they want. So they wake up and they... they ask for things from me--favors, money, anything because, hey, it's not like I don't have enough to give away.” Steve stayed silent. Tony groaned and buried his face in his hands. This wasn't what he wanted to say, but he didn't exactly know _what_ he wanted to say or how to say it. He took out the lighter.

"You gave this back," he said. Steve shrugged. "Do you know how much this is _worth_?" The student frowned.

"I don't particularly care about that," he answered, sounding insulted, and Tony thought he should probably explain before he completely lost Steve.

"Yes! Yes exactly! No one else would have given it back! This would have been their souvenir, their trophy--proof that Tony Stark slept with them--their reward. But not you." But Steve didn't look mollified, so Tony let out a noise of frustration. “God, I'm screwing this up. Look, Steve, I’m not asking you to marry me or move in or anything. I just want to see you a little bit more and maybe see where this goes?” Tony asked. Steve still looked hesitant, and Tony was already grasping at straws. “I mean, at the very least it’s good sex, right?” 

" _That's_ your idea of 'seeing each other'?" Steve asked in disbelief. He didn't seem angry, though. More amused really, so Tony thought he was probably no longer in hot water.

"I'm not... Steve, look. I am a genius at many, many things. People skills is not one of those things. This right here? Talking about feelings? This is like-- _huge_ for me. Ask Pepper. Ask anyone. I am not known to say the right thing. I am known to say the _opposite_ of the right thing. So no. 'seeing each other' does not mean just having sex. It means... it-- _Jesus_." He slapped both hands over his face and leaned back against the seat, giving up. "Just put me out of my misery."

To his pleasant surprise, though, he felt a soft kiss pressed to his cheek, so he peeked through his fingers to see Steve grinning at him.

"You are ridiculous," Steve said, and Tony gave him a bemused laugh.

"Not a new thing," was his answer. Then he took Steve’s hand and pressed the lighter back into it. “Keep it,” he said, closing his fingers over it. “I meant it. It’s yours.”

“Thank you,” Steve said and truly sounded grateful. Then he stole a glance at Tony’s watch. “I gotta go now, okay? I’ve got another class in about eight minutes.” Tony nodded, but leaned forward to press a kiss to his mouth which Steve reciprocated eagerly. “I’ll see you later, Mr—” Steve said, then stopped, and a light blushed spread over his cheeks. “Tony,” he corrected himself then quickly ducked out of the car.


	5. Chapter 5

“Hey, babe,” Steve heard over the line as soon as he answered his cell. He’d just gotten it the previous evening as a gift from Tony (for their ‘one-week anniversary’ he had said, and Steve had to remind him that he was the older half of their relationship, not a teenager), something he actually created from scratch and was leagues above other phones in the market despite the fact that Stark Industries didn’t actually make cellphones. Tony called it a ‘Starkphone’ (because Steve vetoed the idea of calling it the ‘Proof of Tony Stark’s Genius’ phone. For one, it didn’t have the same ring). “How are you liking the new phone?” Tony asked, a distinct note of pride in his voice. Steve rolled his eyes, but there was a smile on his face.

“It’s great. Still getting the hang of using it, though,” he answered while he loaded up his lunch tray with cafeteria food.

“Great enough to merit a quick blowjob in a broom closet?” Tony asked, and Steve just had to laugh.

“Yes. And much, much more,” he promised, digging through his wallet for a couple of bills. He had to shake out the coins from the bottom to get the right amount. He probably needed to pick up some extra shifts at work to cover his meals for the next few days. Keeping up his football-required protein intake was a drain on his budget.

“Well good. I’ll be expecting that later tonight,” Tony purred. “I’m taking us to dinner at Masa after work, okay? Put on something nice.” Steve frowned though; he was making his way through the cafeteria then outside to where Bucky, Sam, and Natasha were sitting on a bench.

“Can’t tonight. I’m doing duty at the Astoria.” He could almost _hear_ Tony’s frown through the phone.

“Remind me again why you’re still waitering when you have a billionaire for a boyfriend?” the CEO asked. But Steve didn’t have an answer that he could tell him.

“I’m free after lunch tomorrow. Don’t have any afternoon classes,” he suggested as he set his tray down in front of Bucky. The three looked up briefly at him before resuming their conversation. There was a pause over the line.

“Yeah, okay. I can move stuff around. Come see me when you’re done,” Tony said. “Bye, babe.” Steve gave his own goodbye and then cut the line. His friends looked up again.

“I still can’t believe Tony Stark would date you,” Bucky started.

“That’s because you’re straight, honey,” Natasha said, saccharine in her tone and then held out her hand, asking for Steve’s phone. He handed it over without a word because Natasha could cut a bitch with only the slightest provocation, and Steve didn’t want to be that bitch. 

“I didn’t know SI made cellphones,” Sam noted, peering over Natasha’s shoulder. Steve grinned bashfully, rubbing the back of his head in a nervous gesture.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “Tony made that for me.” Bucky’s jaw dropped open.

“Haven’t you been dating him for like what? A week?” he asked, grabbing it out of Natasha’s hand—and putting a frown on her face, but Steve wasn’t too worried only because he knew she considered Bucky vital to her sex life. “A week and he makes this for you? Don’t these take forever to develop?”

“Yeah, well, he’s kind of a genius,” Steve shrugged. It wasn’t as if that wasn’t common knowledge, but even he was surprised when actually presented with the products of Tony’s brain.

“Well, duh,” Bucky shot back before resuming his inspection. “Man, this is awesome. And here I thought the Samsung Galaxy S5 was impressive.” He looked up at Steve. “Does he have a brother? I’d go gay for him if this is what you get.” Steve scowled at him and snatched the phone back while Natasha slapped the back of his head. 

“Ass,” Sam snapped.

“What?” Bucky asked defensively.

“I’m not fucking him to get _stuff_ , asshole,” Steve grumbled, burying his gaze in his food. And he really wasn’t. Tony was nice to him and sometimes sweet and definitely a lot hot. The stuff had absolutely nothing to do with it. Natasha kicked Bucky.

“I—well, I didn’t mean it _that_ way. Sorry, man,” he said apologetically. There was a tense silence before Steve heaved a sigh and looked back up.

“Forget it; it’s fine,” he said and cracked a small smile before a bright flash suddenly went off in his face, stunning him. “Wha—?”

“Steve Rogers?” A recorder was suddenly thrust in his face and another flash went off, momentarily blinding him. “It’s been said that you’re dating Tony Stark? Can you confirm or deny the truth of that?” Steve’s vision cleared enough to see two men before him, one with a camera, the other with a recorder.

“What?” he asked again before realizing what was happening. “Shit, I—” He turned to the three for help.

“You’ve been spotted together at several locations during the last week, and readers are wondering how did a guy like you manage to bag the most eligible bachelor in Manhattan?”

“ _Excuse me_?” Steve spluttered. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“We’ve had sources tell us that he came to collect you from your sociology class last Thursday. Is this true?”

“Yes, but I—“

“Have you engaged in any sexual relations with Mr. Stark?”

“Excuse me,” Natasha suddenly said, walking in front of the reporters and knocking the recorder onto the floor. The paparazzo spluttered in indignation.

“Hey!” he wailed before Natasha whirled on him, murder in her eyes.

“Go. Away,” she hissed and pulled Steve up to his feet before ushering him into the building while keeping the reporters pinned with her gaze. The four of them ran into the nearest men’s room.

“I—” Steve was at a loss for words as he slid down a wall and sat on his heels.

“You’re dating Tony Stark, baby,” Natasha reminded him, slinging an arm over his shoulders and patting his cheek. “It’s a surprise that it’s taken the press this long to get wind of you.” Steve only blinked for a long moment before he sighed and buried his face in his arms.

“Yeah, you’re right,” he conceded, his reply muffled by his arms. “I should have known better than to assume they wouldn’t take an interest.” He lifted his head slightly. “Are they really as bad as people say they are?”

“I think that was just a taste of the shitstorm that’s still to come, buddy,” Sam said, slapping his back.

“Maybe you should let Tony know?” Natasha suggested. Steve signed again.

“Yeah, you’re probably right.”


	6. Chapter 6

By evening, his face was plastered all over the news and dozens of images have cropped up of him and Tony. It wasn’t as if they were _hiding_ anything—though in retrospect, maybe they should have—just that he didn’t think at all about how the paparazzi factored into their relationship. Maybe it was because when he was with him, Tony was just so different that Steve just kind of… disassociated him with who everyone else saw him as: a high-profile person, a darling of the media.

Tony had called him later that afternoon, letting him know that Pepper was handling the media and that he shouldn’t let them bother him. He advised that Steve should just ignore them and go about his life as usual. 

‘As usual’ seemed a bit difficult, though, when there were people following him and taking photographs while he bought himself some instant noodles for an early dinner before he headed to the Astoria. True enough, they followed him to work, asking him a barrage of questions even when he blatantly ignored them, and were generally a bother to anyone in Steve’s immediate vicinity. 

The hotel was used to having celebrities for guests, though, so their protocol prevented the paparazzi from bothering him at work. But then it was everybody else who was bothersome and, for the first time ever, Steve cursed the Internet and people’s ability to get news instantaneously through it. 

Left and right, from coworkers to patrons, he was asked if he was the Steve Rogers on the news and if it was true that he was ‘Tony Stark’s new boy toy.’ Steve politely ignored or sidestepped the diners’ questions and outright shot down his coworkers.’ And then his shift was finally, finally over, and he waded through the media bullshit back to the shabby apartment he shared with Bucky who was still out for the night.

His phone rang and he answered it without checking the caller ID. The media had yet to get hold of his cellphone number, thankfully, but Steve wondered if he should preemptively change it.

“Hey,” he said into the speaker, tired and annoyed.

“Steve, honey?” a familiar, warm voice spoke into his ear and Steve shot up straight in his seat.

“Mom?!” he asked, a little bewildered.

“Hello, Stevie. How are you doing?” she asked. Steve cringed. His mother generally didn’t call him up while he was at school, knowing he’d be busy with classes and homework and college life in general. Whenever they spoke, which was quite frequently to be honest, it was always Steve who called first. That she was calling meant she _knew_ , and Steve didn’t know what to do about that.

“I’m fine, mom. You?” he tried.

“Very well, very well, love,” she answered pleasantly. “I did have quite an interesting day though. I was out shopping today, and Mrs. Clayton—you remember her right? She lives down the road?—she told me about something she’d seen on the TV earlier that day.” Steve groaned to himself. “And you know I don’t usually care about celebrity gossip, but she was telling me about Tony Stark and his new boyfriend, who was so very, very familiar to her, but she couldn’t quite place him.”

“Mom...” he started, and she was silent, waiting. “I’m kind of… dating Tony Stark… I think.” He groaned out loud and covered his eyes before throwing himself on the bed.

“You think?” she asked, confused.

“Well, I mean we haven’t really… _talked_ about it, so… I… you know…”

“You don’t… talk,” she echoed flatly, and a brilliant blush overtook Steve’s face.

“Mom!” he wailed, but he was rather relieved to hear her laugh.

“Oh, darling, I only wish I can see your face,” she giggled. Steve humphed petulantly at her through the phone. “Darling, I was surprised is all. I mean here I thought you were studying Art, not flirting it up with gorgeous celebrities.” Steve groaned again and threw his arm over his eyes.

“It’s Thor’s fault. He took me to that party last week. The one I told you about? Tony was there and we, I dunno, kind of hit it off? Or he hit on me?” Sarah laughed again, and after her laughter died down, her tone turned a little bit more serious.

“Honey, I just hope you’re careful, okay?” she started. “Tony Stark is famous and rich, and people are lining up to be with him. He can have anyone he wants at the drop of a hat, and I just don’t want to see you hurt.” Steve nodded, but said nothing. He knew he didn’t have to and that she knew anyway. “If you want him and he wants you, just ignore everyone else. They don’t matter anyway. But don’t give everything to him, not until you know him and what he wants for sure. Take care of yourself.”

“I will, mom,” he answered honestly, sincerely. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” she echoed. “Give my love to Bucky,” she added and then, after a quick goodbye, hung up. 

Steve sighed loudly and then stared at the phone in his hand, making his way to the gallery and flipping through the pictures of him and Tony. The first few ones were of Tony while he was testing out the phone, and Steve chose not to delete them. The next ones were randomly of one or both of them, some wacky, some sweet, some that he should probably move to a hidden folder lest someone else see them. He stopped on the one where Tony had a hand clutching the back of his neck, and their lips were pressed against each other’s. They’d been trying not to laugh while they attempted to recreate some romance-novel covers they’d seen earlier that day. Though the memory was amusing, the picture itself was steamy, and Steve sighed happily before relocating the picture, and other similar ones, to a private folder. With that done, he drew up a text message.

~ _Hey_ ~ it said and he shot it off to Tony.

~ _Hey back. What’s up, babe?_ ~ Tony replied minutes later.

~ _Nothing, just thinking of you_ ~ Steve answered with a grin. It took a moment longer this time for Tony’s text to return but Steve laughed when he read it.

~ _What are you wearing?_ ~

~ _Wouldn’t you like to know_ ~

~ _I did ask_ ~ Steve paused for a moment to glance down at the jeans and t-shirt he wore on the way back from work and decided that wasn’t sexy enough for their exchange.

~ _Just boxers. You?_ ~

~ _Well, I’m putting on jeans now coz this is silly, and I’d rather go there and fuck you than talk about it_ ~ was Tony’s answer. Steve’s cheeks heated, but his smile wavered.

~ _There are people camping out at my front door. It might not be a good idea tonight_ ~ Tony’s reply took even longer this time, and Steve almost thought he was pissed, but then his phone suddenly started blaring ‘You Shook Me All Night Long’ and proclaimed that Tony was calling.

“Hey,” he answered, rolling onto his stomach and propping himself up on his elbows.

“So I was thinking before you quite cruelly shot me down how I’d take fifteen minutes—at most—to get there and then take five to get my cock inside of you,” Tony said almost casually through the line. “So twenty minutes all in all before I fuck you to the edge of your sanity.” A burning blush suddenly overtook the rest of Steve’s face and his cheeks, but he refrained from stammering like a virgin.

“Terribly sorry to disappoint,” he answered instead and mentally rewarded himself for his wry tone.

“Yeah, well, ‘sorry’ doesn’t get you out of your duties. So,” Tony shot back. “Here’s what we’re going to do: you’re going to go to your bedside drawer and take out the dildo I _know_ you keep there.” Steve grinned but complied anyway. “And then you’re going to strip off the boxers you said you were wearing. Are you doing it?”

“Yes, Tony,” the student answered.

“Good boy,” Tony answered. “Make sure to take your lube with you because you’re getting fucked tonight, babe, and I’m going to get the privilege of listening to you while you do so, capiche?”

“Yes, Tony,” Steve repeated with his grin still firmly in place.

“Perfect. Do you have the stuff?” Steve gave an affirmative. “Good boy. Now, get on your back and spread your legs. Imagine me standing at the foot of your bed; show me your greedy little hole.” Steve let out an involuntary moan at Tony’s words as he obeyed because fuck if that didn’t sound hot. “Yeah, that’s it, babe, be nice and loud for me and anybody else within hearing range. I want them to be so jealous of how you’re all for me and they don’t get any. Stretch yourself, darling, make it fast because I’m not gonna last long,” Tony breathed into his ear. Steve slicked up three of his fingers and pressed two in himself at once, groaning loudly as he did. “Fuck, yes. The things you do to me, Steve. You’re beautiful. Tell me, tell me what you’re doing.”

“T—two fingers, Tony. Just pushing them… uhn… in and out and stretching my… my ass.”

“Good, good. One more now.”

“Uhn… God…” Steve moaned as he obeyed, pushing in the third finger, scissoring all three apart and twisting and pumping them repeatedly. He tossed his head back and curled his toes as he loosened the ring of muscle.

“Talk to me, babe. Do you like it?”

“God, yesss,” Steve hissed. “Yes, fuck, I love how it feels, but it’s not enough. It’s not _you_.” Tony gave a high-pitched noise on the other end of the line.

“Enough. I want the toy in you. I want you to fuck yourself, as hard and as fast as you can.” Steve moaned as he pulled his fingers out of himself and quickly lubed up the toy. “No, wait. Get on your hands and knees,” Tony ordered just as Steve had lined the toy up with himself. He hastened to comply, blushing only slightly at the exposure this position afforded him—what he’d give to have Tony see him like this. He told Tony as much and earned himself a curse. “Oh don’t worry, babe. This isn’t the last time that toy’s going up your ass. Next time, I’m going to film you fucking yourself just so you can see what I see.”

“Nnngh… yes, God, Tony, _please_ , yes.”

“I will, babe, I will. Put it in now. Come on, baby, shove that thick cock in your tight hole,” Tony ordered, his voice harsh and strained, and Steve saw no reason not to obey. He gave a long groan as he slowly penetrated himself with the toy, not stopping until he pushed it in as far as it would go. For a moment, he let it be, whimpering as the walls of his ass forced it out slowly. He caught it just as the head caught around his rim and then shoved it back in, harder this time. He couldn’t help but let out a cry. 

“Fuck...” Tony cursed when he did. “God, Steve, when you come in tomorrow, I’m going to bend you over my desk and take you tight and dry and hard and you’re going to scream for me so beautifully, won’t you?”

“Yes _yes_ , Tony.”

“Yeah, you’re going to be so good for me. I’m going to fuck you so hard that you’ll be feeling me for a _week_ , and everyone will know how fucking much you love my cock, how much you love it when I fuck you.”

“Yes, Tony. Fuck. I do love your cock. I love it when you fuck me; I love how loose your cock makes me afterwards.”

“Go ahead, love. Make your ass good and loose for me so that when you come in tomorrow I can just bend you over and slide right in. You’re such a slut for me,” Tony breathed almost reverently, as though he couldn’t believe his luck. It made his words a compliment that Steve could hardly get enough of.

“God, yes. I am, I am. Only for you.”

“You’re what?” Tony asked. “Say it.”

“I—I’m a slut. Your slut… Fuck, Tony. Please, please…”

“Yeah, baby, come on. Come for me,” Tony moaned. Steve pumped the dildo in himself, as hard and as fast as he could make it, and when he stroked his cock with his free hand, overwhelming pleasure overtook him, and he sobbed his release into the receiver of the cellphone. Over the line, Tony cursed loudly, which he took to mean he, too, had come.

For several minutes after that, only harsh breathing filled the line and then Steve moaned softly as he pulled the dildo out of him and slumped on the bed, heedless of the cooling come.

“Remind me to buy you a plug,” Tony murmured, his voice soft and wrecked. Steve couldn’t muster the energy to blush. “So that you’d remain loose and easy for me the next day.”

“Stop, Tony,” Steve whined. “Give me a few minutes.” Tony laughed.

“Okay, okay. This time,” he promised, which sounded ominous but Steve was too blissed out to care.


	7. Chapter 7

It was difficult not to act like a paranoid spy at times like these, but it was all Steve could do to keep from peering suspiciously around corners and huddling against the wall to avoid contact with people. So when someone behind him whispered ‘Boo!’ right next to his ear, he jumped about three feet in the air and barrelled down an unsuspecting first year student.

“Sorry! I’m so sorry, here, let me...” he apologized, kneeling down to help pick the student’s books up. He handed them over to the boy (really, he _can’t_ have been out of high school yet) who looked up into his face. The boy’s eyes grew wide, and he let out a tiny, startled squeak before muttering a ‘sorry!’ of his own and scurrying away. All the while, Sam stood back and laughed.

Steve glared at him and punched his arm, reveling in the pained wince that overtook his face.

“What’s your deal?” he grumbled, resuming his cautious walk. With Sam at his side, he felt a little less paranoid.

“Tuition?” Sam asked knowingly. Steve sighed and nodded.

“You know it,” he agreed. In his pocket, he held a thick stack of cash from his mom and some from his own salary (because he refused to allow her to get a second job for this) that he was going to use to pay his monthly tuition dues. Their meager wages plus his partial scholarship from playing football were all that stood in his way between him and the financial ruin that was student loans, so he did have some right to feel paranoia over holding it on his way to the cashier office.

“You should ask your boyfriend for help,” Sam suggested quite suddenly and quite casually, and Steve stopped abruptly. 

He shut his eyes and counted to ten under deep, deep breaths, and when he had calmed himself well enough, turned a deadly glare to one of his closest and dearest friends who wisely stepped back with his hands held out in front of him. He reminded himself that Sam was a great friend and in suggesting that, was only looking to see him live an easier and stress-free life.

“I am _not_ ,” he still bit out angrily, “going to ask Tony for money.” And then he stalked off before he could chew Sam out further. He had managed to take a few brisk steps before Sam’s hand landed on his shoulder and pulled him back.

“I’m sorry,” Sam apologized, looking contrite as anyone could possibly be. “That was insensitive and a dick thing to say. I didn’t mean it like that.” Steve blew out a breath and nodded, then resumed walking to the cashier, this time waiting for Sam to catch up and walk beside him.

“I know you didn’t,” he said. “I just… It just hasn’t been the walk-in-the-park, cloud-nine kind of thing I expected in having a boyfriend.”

“He not treating you well?” Sam asked. It was neutral enough, the way he said it, but Steve was quick to placate the anger running beneath the surface.

“No! No, nothing like that, no,” Steve said with a sharp turn of his head. “Tony’s great.” And maybe his smile was just a little bit too sappy. “He’s… yeah, he’s--Tony’s great.” But...

“But?” Sam prompted when the silence stretched out for a bit. Steve shrugged through a frown.

“I’m sure you’ve seen the news on him these last two weeks,” he answered. “It’s everywhere. It’s horrible.” Sam was silent. “Apparently if you’re dating a rich, older guy, you’re suddenly a boy toy.” He laughed, and maybe it was just a little bit pained because Sam nudged him gently with his shoulder. “It doesn’t help that we’re both men. Some of those… those _eggheads_ are even claiming I ‘turned gay’ to get into his wallet.” Sam laughed.

“All the insults in the world, and you choose ‘eggheads’ to describe the vilest creatures in the history of entertainment,” he pointed out. “‘Fuckers.’ I’d choose ‘fuckers.’ But maybe ‘jackasses’ would be better for your delicate sensibilities?” Steve nudged him back harder with his own shoulder, sending him flying a few feet away. Sam only came back laughing harder, and Steve couldn’t prevent the smile on his own face.

“ _You’re_ the jackass,” he told his friend as they came up to the payment window, and then he turned his attention to the lady behind it. “Hi, I’m here to settle my account this month. Steven G. Rogers, please?” She nodded and looked down to her computer. It took a moment for her to get back to him, and when she did, there was a crease between her eyebrows.

“Rogers, Steven Grant is that right?” she asked, and Steve nodded, confused. He heard the rapid-fire clicks of her keyboard momentarily before she looked back up at him, her eyebrows raised. “You’re all paid off, Mr. Rogers. Up until graduation.” Steve’s eyes flew open, and he turned to Sam who had a similar expression of shock.

“But… But that can’t be. I don’t--I don’t remember… I can’t have. I don’t even have half that saved up.”

“Well, Mr. Rogers, it says here your account has been settled two days ago via bank transfer from the account of one Mr… Anthony Edward--Oh!” She looked up, her eyes wide in understanding. Steve spluttered in an attempt to dignify himself with a response, but Sam quickly grabbed his arm and pulled him away, far away from prying eyes and ears. He propped him up against the wall while Steve’s mind reeled with thoughts.

“You didn’t ask for it,” Sam told him firmly, his fingers digging dents in Steve’s biceps.

“I--I--” Steve stuttered.

“Steve, this is a _good thing_ ,” Sam insisted, but it didn’t feel like one. “You didn’t ask for it; he gave it to you.” And yeah, Steve didn’t. “It’s a gift, Steve. It means your mother doesn’t have to keep breaking her back for this.” His mom. Yes. She worked so hard to put him through college even though they couldn’t really afford it. “It means all the work you do after class, all that waitering and overtime, you can give it back to her, right? Help her with her bills? You know she needs that help.” She did, oh she did. Steve could cry. 

Steve did cry, but Sam only pulled him into a hug.

“I can’t accept it,” he hiccupped. Sam hugged him tighter.

“You didn’t ask for it, Steve. It’s rude to give gifts back.” It wasn’t; Sam was such a liar. “You’re gonna take it, Steve. You need it.”

“I _can’t_ ,” Steve nearly wailed. He wasn’t a charity case, wasn’t… wasn’t a _gold digger_. “I’m not a gold digger, Sam. I’m not--” But he couldn’t say anymore because Sam slapped a hand over his mouth and stared him down firmly.

“You don’t say that--don’t _think_ that. You don’t _ever_ think that, Steve, do you understand me?” It was so vehemently said that Steve could do nothing but nod weakly. “You’re not with Tony for the money. You know that, I know that, all your friends know that, and that’s the only thing that matters. But anyone who says that to you, tells it to your face?” Sam was so angry. Steve hadn’t ever seen him that angry. “We’ll fuck them up real bad, do you understand?” Steve nodded again, stunned by Sam’s outburst. He was Steve’s most rational, placid friend. This was… scary. And touching. But mostly scary. Sam let out a breath and let Steve go.

“Okay,” he said. “Okay. You okay?” Steve nodded, still stunned. “Good. Good.” Sam nodded, but it was mostly to himself. Sam patted his shoulder. “Now, you go to that boy toy of yours and thank him in ways I will not even _begin_ to think about, okay? Go call him up and, I don’t know, phone sex, or something.” Steve blushed brightly and punched Sam in the arm.

“Jackass,” he muttered, but it was fondly meant.


	8. Chapter 8

Steve should have known something was up when he had stepped foot in school the next day and was met with whispers and stares. But then again, whispers and stares had been par for the course for the past three weeks, so he’s learned to actively ignore it.

All the way up to lunch, he ignored his schoolmates and pretended not to see them showing their phones to each other, containing what he was sure were online tabloid articles. He pretended not to be bothered when crowds parted for him, and first years tittered behind their books. Instead, he attended his classes, participated diligently in discussions, and sent naughty texts to Tony beneath his armchair.

Then at lunch, he caught up with Bucky, Sam, and Nat, and promptly took in Sam’s pale face.

“What?” he asked in the face of their stares. They exchanged glances as he moved to sit beside Sam--only, the other jumped up and away. “What?” Steve demanded, hurt from Sam’s reaction. It didn’t keep his friend from switching seats with Bucky, but Nat was quick to placate Steve.

“We’ll take that to mean you don’t know,” she observed while pulling out her phone and quickly scrolling through it. Steve didn’t like the sound of that.

“Know what?” he asked while Natasha seemed to be looking for something. Bucky and Sam said nothing, but by then, Nat shoved her phone underneath his nose and he had to push her hand back a few inches to see the Facebook article she had pulled up.

And paled.

“Fuck,” was all he said. Was all he could say. He looked up at Sam who shook his head.

“Don’t look at me, man,” he said. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Maybe you should call Tony?” Natasha suggested, pulling back her phone and the article about his and Sam’s supposed affair (based, apparently, on a stolen photo of them hugging after the whole tuition incident). Steve’s heart suddenly thumped harder at the thought of talking to him.

Tony… Tony wouldn’t believe that article, right? He should know that Steve would never cheat on him. He’d said nothing in all Steve’s texts this morning, which meant… which could only mean he didn’t believe it. Right?

_Or that he had yet to see it_.

“Fuck,” Steve said again and jumped out of his chair and stumbled back, looking for a good, quiet place to call Tony.

He picked up in three rings.

“Hey, babe. What’s up?” And his voice was so completely normal that Steve let out a shattered breath of relief. His next one was hitched, and apparently that was all the indication Tony needed to ask, “Steve, what’s wrong?” There was such _concern_ in his voice that Steve let out another shuddering breath as he collapsed his weight against the wall behind him.

“Tony! Have you--” He stopped, not quite sure how to begin. “You know I wouldn’t… wouldn’t cheat on you, right?” he asked. Begged, really, because he needed to know that Tony understood that. “I wouldn’t cheat on anyone I was in a relationship, and especially not you.” He stopped to hear Tony’s answer, but there was only silence over the line, and Steve panicked. “Tony… you believe me, don’t you?” He could only hear deep breaths and silence. “I would never… Tony, please.” The answer to that was a deep sigh, and then Tony spoke.

“By your texts this morning, I assumed you didn’t yet know,” he said.

“What?” Steve struggled to keep his voice steady.

“Pepper found out about it this morning,” Tony answered, calm and reassuring, and Steve was glad for it. “I was hoping you wouldn’t until I could come see you, but I suppose that was too much to hope for.” He sighed again. 

“Darling.” And God, wasn’t that a beautiful thing to hear? “I know that article isn’t true. It’s not the first time New York Today severely misunderstood an image, and if I started to believe everything said in those gossip rags, I’d probably go insane.”

Then his voice turned soft and sweet. “And yes, Steve, sweetheart, I know _beyond a shadow of a doubt_ that you wouldn’t cheat on me, on anyone. I know that’s not the kind of person you are. I trust you, okay? Don’t let those assholes get to you.” Steve couldn’t help but break into a small smile.

“Okay, Tony,” he answered, breathless still, but this time for an entirely different reason. God, he couldn’t understand how this was the same man he used to think Tony Stark was: ruthless in business, casual in bed, and just an asshole all around. “Thank you.”

“Anytime, darling,” Tony answered. “It’s good that you called me. You do that whenever you feel like this again, okay? Whenever you feel like anything. Don’t hesitate to call me, understand? I’ll pick up. For you, darling, I’ll always pick up.” Steve beamed.

“Yeah, okay,” he answered, and because it needed repeated, added. “Thank you.”

“Good. Now back to class with you, you slacker,” Tony said, voice teasing. Steve laughed.

“I’m at lunch, jerk,” he shot back, already making his way back to his friends.

“Well, hopefully a jerk you don’t mind hanging up on,” Tony answered, a sudden and growing urgency in his voice, “because the devil in Prada is here to take me back to that hellhole called--” He heard a yelp over the line, and then some scuffling, and then whining before he heard Pepper’s voice.

“Hello, Steve,” she said warmly. Steve bit his lip to stifle a laugh.

“Hello, Ms. Potts. I apologize if I interrupted anything important,” he said, sitting back down between Bucky and Natasha.

“Don’t worry about it, Steve,” Pepper answered. “But at this point, I recognize when Tony is or is planning to slack off, so I figured I should step in before nothing at all gets done.”

“I understand.” And even if Steve didn’t, Pepper was nice enough that he didn’t mind his conversation with Tony cut off.

“Thank you, Steve. And don’t worry, you’ll be seeing him tonight after your classes.”

“Thank you, Ms. Potts,” was Steve’s response, which Pepper returned, afterwhich she hung up.

“So I take it, you’re feeling better?” Bucky asked. Steve tilted his head to regard them.

“You know what?” Yes. Yes he was. “I am,” he said, then shot Sam a look. “Hey, man. I’m sorry for getting you involved in all this…” Sam waved one hand in clear dismissal.

“Stop,” he cut him off as he stole a fry off of Bucky’s plate. “This is… We should have expected it, to be honest, but we won’t make the same mistake next time, and _no_ , Steve,” Sam said with narrowed eyes, stabbing the fry at him, because Steve was just about to say something. “We are not kicking you out of the group-- _or_ letting you leave--because of this.” He shrugged, then grinned and added, “Let’s just be thankful it wasn’t Nat.” Natasha laughed and threw another of Bucky’s fries at him (accompanied by an indignant ‘hey!’ from Bucky and a belated shielding of his food).

And just like that, the rest of his day was so much better.

He attended the rest of his day’s classes, participated diligently in discussions, and sent naughty texts to Tony underneath his armchair, and when football practice had rolled around and ended, he laughed at the usual locker-room banter and ruckus like he had always done.

“Screw you, Dugan!” Bucky was saying, rubbing his naked ass where Dum Dum had snapped a towel at him. “Just because you haven’t gotten laid since Vanessa doesn’t mean those of us in serious, committed relationships are whipped. Right, Steve?” But Steve couldn’t answer because he was laughing too hard. “Come on, back me up here!”

“Cap’s probably the last person you’d want back up on this, Barnes,” Gabe said as his own side-splitting laughter wound down. “If reports about Tony Stark’s bedroom preferences are true, he’s probably the very definition of whipped.” Then he waggled his eyebrows. “If you know what I mean.” As raucous laughter erupted around him--none of it malicious, Steve knew--he blushed terribly brightly and launched his wet, rolled up towel at Gabe’s laughing face.

“Asshole,” he said, embarrassed more than anything, but laughing with them anyway. Gabe only laughed harder, toppling off the bench in the process. “And apparently interested, too, if you’ve been reading up on Tony’s bedroom preferences. You crushin’ on my boyfriend, Jones?” The locker room erupted into a chorus of jeers and shouts, the team throwing their towels at Gabe’s balled up, shaking form on the floor.

“I wouldn’t actually mind giving him a free test-drive, you know,” a new voice suddenly called out from behind them. Their laughter abruptly and jarringly stopped as heads snapped to see Tony leaning against the lockers, his arms crossed over his chest and a greatly amused grin on his mouth. “But hey. Monogamy, what can you do?”

“Tony!” Steve gasped. Tony turned a leer towards him.

“Oh, don’t mind me. Just enjoying the view,” he explained breezily. Then a brow quirked up, and those of them still naked scrambled for the nearest towel to cover up (Well, most of them anyway. Thor didn’t seem to care either way).

“We--uh… We’ll just be… uh going now, Cap,” Morita stuttered, his bag in one hand and the other holding a towel against his crotch. The rest of the team followed suit, clearly embarrassed in Tony’s presence. 

Steve glared at the billionaire--who only snickered at the sight of them leaving--and then quite suddenly blushed when he remembered he had yet to procure a towel of his own. Clearly, Tony noticed, too, because his grin, when he eventually turned back to Steve, turned predatory. With three steps, he had Steve crowded up against the lockers and trapped there between his arms.

“Hey, gorgeous,” he murmured, pressing a kiss against the side of Steve’s throat. From that single point of contact, lines of electricity shot out and radiated all over Steve’s body, making his extremities tingle and his cock fill.

“Tony,” Steve repeated, his voice a mere lust-ridden whisper. His hands scrambled against the lockers to find purchase, but to no avail.

“Was hoping to catch you practicing. Maybe see you hot and sweaty and still in your uniform because fuck me if those spandex pants wouldn’t show off your fine, fine ass,” Tony murmured as his lips traveled the length of Steve’s neck, down to his collarbone. “But I can’t be too disappointed because freshly showered and naked is just as good a look on you.”

“Tony, we can’t--anyone could--”

“Could what, baby? See you?” Tony’s hand found his cock and promptly pulled a half sob, half gasp out of him. “I wouldn’t mind showing you off. Look at you. You’re gorgeous like this.”

"Uh Cap?" Sam’s voice suddenly called out from behind a row of lockers. Steve jerked back, slamming his head against the lockers, and shoved Tony into the opposite row. The jerk only laughed even as he staggered back. Ignoring Tony, he looked to see Sam edging around the corner with a hand firmly covering his eyes.

"Oh, haha," Steve said sarcastically, helping Tony back to his feet. "What, Sam? And you can look, nothing's happening."

"Anymore," Tony muttered under his breath, receiving a sharp jab to the side from Steve's elbow.

"No fucking way, Cap. I'm already taking one for the team by stepping back foot in here--very unwillingly by the way, but apparently being caught in a 'tryst' with you was the basis for unanimous voting--so no. I am not going to be subjected to the sight of your pasty white ass..." Tony's laugh was uproarious, drowning out most of what Sam was saying.

" _Why_ are you here, Sam?" Steve demanded through gritted teeth, grabbing his boxers out of his locker and putting them on before any more damage could be done.

"Colonel--I mean, Coach Phillips is--"

"Here." The football coach walked around Sam who disappeared with surprising speed. Steve--stunned first, then in a flurry of action--surreptitiously pulled on his shirt. Phillips was ignoring him anyway, instead giving Tony the stink eye. "I'm going to ask you what you're doing in my mens' locker room, Stark, and you're going to tell me in very few words before you immediately vacate the premises."

"Coach Phillips! It’s an honor to finally meet Steve's favorite instructor." Tony held out his hand to shake, and Phillips eyed it suspiciously. He did eventually take it, but dropped it after a brief squeeze.

"Well, now that we've gotten that piece of bullshit out of the way, I'm gonna ask again: what do you think you’re doing in my locker room, molesting my team captain?" Steve buried his blush in his locker with a groan.

"Well, you see, coach," Tony started, slinging his arm over Phillips' shoulders and steering him outside, as he said in a fading voice, "I couldn't help but notice the sorry state of your equipment here. When did you even get these things? This one here, I know for a fact, is circa '92..." Steve tried to dress as quickly as he could to follow them out, but he only managed to fall flat on his face when he got tangled up in his jeans. As the door swung open, he could only hear Tony say the words "great interest" and "donation."


	9. Chapter 9

"I had to stop him from having the whole damn stadium renovated. Coach looked like he wanted to slap me when I did, but Christ..." Steve buried his head in his arms. Natasha attempted to appear sympathetic by nodding appropriately and patting his shoulder. Sam and Bucky, however, looked at him like he was crazy.

" _I_ want to slap you, Steve!" Bucky cried. "Have you not been using the same locker rooms we have? They're rusty, never have enough hot water, and smell like feet. Feet, Steve!" Steve glared at him.

"I will not allow Tony to have the football stadium renovated on the sole basis of our relationship,” he said firmly because any leeway allowed Bucky was taken advantage of. Shamelessly. “He doesn't even _like_ football! If anything, he should have donated to the engineering club instead!"

"Damn right he should have, Rogers." All four of them turned to see Brock Rumlow and Georges Batroc standing behind him. Both were members of the Alpha Iota Mu fraternity dedicated to engineering and the sciences. The fraternity had the odd reputation of being both bullies and science geeks at the same time, and Steve often went out of his way to avoid them if only because he didn't want to have to deal with their bullshit. He hated bullies. "That funding should have been given to people who actually want to change the world, not some lunkheads who bash each other's skulls in." Both of them were MMA fighters in training. Steve politely did not point that out.

"Tony Stark should have known better, but maybe he was too busy getting his brain sucked out his cock by the football captain," Georges added with a sneer. Anger and shame flared in Steve, hot and burning, and tensions around him grew. In his periphery, he could see Bucky and Sam rising from their seats.

"You better start running now, Batroc, before I come round there and bash your head in," Bucky growled, but Steve shook his head in warning.

“Bucky, no,” he said. They weren’t going to give it to these bullies. They were above that.

"Hey, Rogers," Brock sneered with a mocking grin on his face, and Steve _knew_ what he was going to say. _Shutupshutupshutup_ , Steve wanted to tell him, to scream at him before he could get a word in edgewise, but he wasn’t a bully; he didn’t solve problems with violence and anger. "I've got 20 bucks in my pocket. Want me to take you for a ride? Coz, you know, I've always--"

_WHAM!_

It was Natasha who stood and, with blinding speed, buried her fist right in Brock's face. She pulled it back with blood covering her knuckles from Brock's bleeding nose. Then she spat on his shoes.

"You," she hissed, seething, "do not speak to him that way. You do not speak to him again. Ever!" Her voice was tainted with a vague Russian inflection that Steve knew slipped out when she was angry beyond belief. Brock stared at his hand in shock, also covered in blood from having checked his nose, then his eyebrows drew together a split second before he pulled back his fist and decked Natasha across the cheek.

Pandemonium broke out.

One minute, Steve and Sam were struggling to keep Bucky and Natasha and Georges and Brock apart, the next, they were dishing out punches and kicks of their own in self defense because fraternities, apparently, did not leave their 'brothers' to fight their own battles, so a whole lot of Alpha Iota Mu members descended on them in battle.

Steve fought. He fought to protect himself and his friends and didn't _think_ about how everything was going to hell.

One guy had Bucky's arms restrained while another punched him repeatedly in the stomach, so Steve grabbed the puncher by the back of his shirt and hauled him off and threw him straight into one of his other brothers. He received a kick to the face from Georges for his troubles, but that was _fine_ because Bucky had shaken himself free and was able to defend himself once more.

Steve turned to Georges, ducking to miss a punch, and thrust himself forward, tackling the man to the ground. He pinned George's hands beneath his knees and doled out punch after punch after punch, only stopping when Georges pulled one of his hands free and shoved him over. Steve took a punch to the jaw while he staggered to his feet and drew his own fist back to return the favor, except an ear-splitting “STOP!!!” stunned him and all of others in place.

As one, everyone turned to see Ms. Hansen, genetics professor, and a couple of other teachers standing off to the side of their melee with a mix of horrified, appalled, and furious expressions on their faces. Many of the Iota Mus managed to gather their wits and run away, but the main players and a few more were boxed in by campus security. Ms. Hansen, stormed over to them, her face livid.

"Everyone!” she barked, brooking no room for protest. “With me!" Without further word, she stalked off in the direction of the administration building, confident that security would usher them to follow her. 

No one put up a fight as they were herded to what would surely be academic death. The Iota Mus walked with a swagger in their steps and confident grins on their faces because the Chancellor was a well known alumnus of Alpha Iota Mu, having founded it himself in his school days. On the other hand, Steve, Bucky, Natasha, and Sam prepared their thoughts on defending themselves. The school didn't take physical altercations on campus lightly, and Steve knew they had to make solid cases.

_Oh God_ , Steve suddenly thought as the adrenaline in his veins started settling and panic started pooled in the pit of his stomach. _Ohgodohgodohgod_. They were in trouble. They were in so much trouble, and his friends knew it, too, with the way they looked at him with worry in their eyes (all except Natasha who merely had her chin lifted as if to dare someone, anyone, to challenge her). He was going to lose everything: his scholarship, his degree, his future--everything his mother worked for. _Oh God_ , he thought once more as his feet felt like they were turning to lead.

Chancellor Killian spoke with the fraternity first behind the closed doors of his office, and Steve _knew_ they'd get off with nothing more than a slap on the wrist.

It took ages longer for Killian to call on them, and unlike Brock and his group, he did so one at a time. 

They waited, nervous and quiet and still, with the knowledge that the Chancellor was in the position to mete out punishments that needn’t go through the Student Disciplinary Tribunal. It was only when Sam came out, white as a sheet, and said 'permanently dismissed from the team' that any of them did anything. 

Natasha grabbed Steve's phone and took it to an empty corner of the room, speaking rapidly and angrily to someone. It took her about ten minutes to end her conversation, just enough time to pocket it, when Bucky emerged with the same pale expression and the Chancellor's secretary called for her. Natasha kissed Bucky's cheek, whispered 'it's okay,' and walked into the office with her head held high.

She came back out a good twenty minutes later, her eyes hard but her chin quivering.

"What happened?" Bucky asked, reaching out to her. She shook her head.

"It's okay," she repeated, then sank down onto the chair beside him and leaned heavily against his side.

"Rogers," the secretary called and held the door wide open for him. He gave his friends one last glance then stepped into Chancellor Killians office.

He was gestured into the chair in front of the desk, so he hesitantly sat.

"From what I gathered, Mr. Rogers, you were the catalyst that started this all," the Chancellor said, his voice pleasant, but mildly accusatory.

"Sir, I swear we were minding our own business," Steve started to say, worry urgent in his voice. "Brock and Georges came and--" Killian held up a hand and abruptly silenced him before shaking his head.

"Regardless of who started it, you know very well that fighting on campus is not taken lightly here in Wagner College. If this is the kind of thing Philips teaches you during practice--to use your brute strength over other students--"

"It's not!" Steve cried in protest. "We acted in self-defense!"

"-- _I have decided_ it would be best that you don't find yourself capable of using your strength to harm others any longer," Killian said, finality in his voice. "I will be asking Coach Philips to take you off of the team roster." Steve's jaw fell open in shock.

“B… But… My scholarship!” Killian gave him a pitying look then broke eye contact.

“I am very sorry, Mr. Rogers, but under the circumstances, I don’t think we can continue to provide that service any longer,” he said even as he casually arranged the papers on his desk. Steve didn’t look away from his face. Killian looked up. “I am sure, though, that you can find another way to compensate.” Oh… That was… That was low. Steve clenched his fist. "Please shut the door on your way out." Anger flared in him at the casual dismissal, as though the Chancellor didn’t care that he was ruining Steve’s life based on unfounded accusations and cursory investigation.

He rose from his chair, breath quick with anger.

"And Iota Mu?" he asked quietly, carefully. "I suppose that, by your logic, their fraternity is now disbanded? And Rumlow and Batroc? They're kicked out of the Jujitsu team?" Killian frowned.

"I do not discuss the punishments of students with anybody, much less other students, Mr. Rogers." Meaning no.

Steve clenched his jaw and his fist, silent for a long moment and shaking with rage. He wanted to punch Killian right across the jaw, to make him see stars, and maybe shove his head just that much further up his ass.

But what would that get him? Explusion for sure, and likely a criminal record too.

At that thought, the fight left him as soon as it came. He let out a ragged breath then turned his back to the Chancellor. He made sure to shut the door behind him, lightly even though he really wanted to slam it hard.

Outside, Natasha, Bucky, and Sam looked at him with concerned (and lost) expressions. He shook his head and started walking out into the hall, sure that they would follow.

God, what was he going to tell his _team_?

A harsh breath escaped him at that, and he felt Bucky's hand on his shoulder. He ignored it, couldn't deal with it right now. Bucky deserved as much comfort as he did, and he was in no position to give it out because if he let his mask of anger and indignation slide... 

Later, he told himself. Later, when they were back in their apartment where they could lick their wounds in--

All thoughts ground to a sudden halt when he saw Tony alighting his town car at the building entrance a few meters away from where Steve stood, his sunglasses perched on his nose and his head held high. As he straightened, he brushed imaginary lint off his business suit and started forward, through the crowd that had gathered in front of the building’s entrance. Pepper and Happy immediately flanked him, and the trio strode through the hall, faces stoic and staring straight ahead, looking all for the world like they were about to enact a hostile takeover. The crowd before them went silent and quickly parted like automatic doors, allowing them no hindrance.

Tony's hand caught his as soon as they neared, but his pace never slowed. He tugged Steve to walk--strut really--beside him without a single word.

"Tony," Steve started, but Tony silenced him with a squeeze to his hand which was probably wise considering the piqued interests around them.

"Your friend Natasha told me," Tony said, voice low and hard. "I'll take care of it." And wasn't that the most reassuring thing in the world? One of the world's most powerful men at your back, taking care of your problems for you. It was frightening, it left Steve feeling guilty (though he had yet to figure out for what), and it made him so incredibly relieved that he didn't even think about protesting the help. He squeezed Tony's hand in thanks, and Tony squeezed back even when his stride didn't slow and expression didn't change.

They reached the Chancellor's office seconds later where the stunned secretary intercepted them.

"I... I'm sorry, sir, but the Chancellor is taking no visitors right now," she stuttered, but Tony paid her no heed and, after telling Steve to 'stay here,' simply brushed past her as though she had not existed at all. Happy darted ahead of Tony to hold the office door open for him, and Tony and Pepper strode through without hesitation. Then Happy folded his hands in front of him, standing guard at the door like a particularly stern secret service agent.

Dimly, Steve could recognize camera lenses and interested eyes peeking through the door and window, but like them, he too, was pulled by curiosity about what could be happening in the office.

He traded a look with Natasha who shrugged.

"Would you rather I had called our parents?"

Oh God, no. Definitely not. Tony was... Steve was glad Tony was here.

They were agonizing, the eighteen minutes Tony spent holed up with Pepper and Killian. Steve could hear nothing, both from the room and from the people around him, all engrossed and waiting.

And then the door opened, and Tony walked back out, his eyes, free from his sunglasses now, held a vicious joy that sent a shiver through Steve's body. Behind Pepper, Steve caught a brief glimpse of Killian's stunned face, but the door was shut quickly and Tony was already taking his hand, so his attention was pulled away.

When he looked again, Tony's eyes and smile were warm and gorgeous and carried only the vaguest hints of viciousness from earlier. He pulled Steve toward him and kissed him gently, stroking his cheek once before pulling back.

"Let's go get something to eat," he told Steve, and though he still had classes and lunch had just ended two hours ago, Steve felt _famished_.

"Can my friends come too?" he asked first because, to be honest, as grateful as he was, he'd rather spend some time with them right now than eat. Tony only blinked, eyes wide, as though he couldn't understand why Steve even asked.

"Of course," he answered like it was the most obvious thing in the world. And it was the most perfect answer that Steve could have sunk to his knees in overwhelming relief. Tony smiled gently and squeezed his hand and kissed him again. "Let's go," he said, words carefully reserved undoubtedly against spectators.

It was going to be okay, Steve felt. They were going to be okay because he had his friends and he had Tony, and for that, this… this was something he would be able to handle.

Chancellor Killian announced his immediate resignation later that day.


	10. Chapter 10

Steve met Clint while he was walking to his next class and an apple was suddenly thrown at his face without warning (almost into it really, if it hadn't been for his quick reflexes).

"Check this out!" an unfamiliar voice called, and before Steve could figure out where to look for the source of the voice, an arrow--an honest to God, fucking archer's arrow--sailed three inches in front of him (millimeters between his clenched fingers), drove right through the apple, exploding it, and embedded itself into the tree to Steve's right. 

A dirty-blonde haired guy ran up to him with an excited smile and an expensive-looking bow in hand. "Cool, huh?!" Steve gaped at him for a long moment, bits of fruit and juice splatters on his face and clothes, until the archer grabbed the fruit and bit on it while holding a hand out to shake. "Clint Barton." Steve shook his head to snap himself out of his stupor and gingerly took Clint's hand to shake.

"Do you chuck random fruit and fire arrows at everyone you meet?" he asked, trying for humor even when his voice still shook with shock and bewilderment. He wiped the debris off of his face and chest. Clint grinned.

"It's how I find who's friend-worthy material, and who isn't, and you, my friend, passed with flying colors," he said, slinging an arm over Steve's shoulders.

"Uhh... Thanks... I guess?" Steve said as Clint steered him through the buildings and into the quad.

"No problemo, my man," Clint answered, clearly unaware or uncaring of the confusion in Steve. "So," he continued, looking around eagerly, like he was searching for something. "New school, first day. What kind of trouble can you recommend to a freshie like me?" He looked entirely too gleeful at that, but Steve frowned in confusion.

"Freshie?" Clint was clearly old enough to be Steve's age, maybe a bit older, his attitude aside. Clint shrugged nonchalantly.

"Yeah. Stopped right after high school three years ago, joined a circus, just recently came into a scholarship. I was the Amazing Hawkeye!" he declared enthusiastically, his arms spread wide.

"Let me guess," Steve deadpanned. "Lion tamer?" Clint laughed, loud and boisterous.

"I admit, I do have the rugged good looks for it," was his confident answer, with an equally confident wink, making Steve laugh. "But no." He mimed pulling an arrow out of a quiver and shooting it with a pop of his lips.

"I would never have guessed," Steve said wryly. Clint patted his back and took two steps forward.

"So. Freshie. Trouble. Where to?" he asked, once more an excitable puppy in a new environment. Steve stared at the back of his head for quite some time, trying to figure out if he was being sincere or not given that trouble was exactly something Steve was trying to avoid since the whole incident yesterday. A twenty-plus-year-old freshie suddenly barging into his day with an insane ice breaker and an absurd backstory just seemed too surreal right now. Then Clint turned to him with eager blue eyes and a happy smile, and Steve found himself returning it.

"If you don't mind," he said, starting forward and leading Clint to his friends' hang out spot. "I'd like to skip the trouble for now."

"I'm hearing a promise in there, Rogers," Clint answered with matching finger guns. Steve chuckled.

"I make none," he told him with a shake of his head. Clint considered it.

"A story then." Steve's lips twisted into a wry smile.

"You won't need me for that," he said, not a little bit resignedly. "Perezhilton.com." Clint lifted a brow then snapped a clap of his hands.

"A celebrity then! Man, count me lucky! Spend three years in a crappy trailer with three other dudes, move to New York, and BAM! Make celebrity friends in less than a day."

"Don't--You don't... I'm not a celebrity," Steve answered, thrown by the apparent ignorance of his and Tony's relationship. "Where did you say you were from again?" But he didn't hear Clint's answer because they had neared their spot, and Bucky called out a "Hey, Steve!" Steve had to stifle a laugh behind his hand when Clint gave a broad wave and Bucky's eyebrows drew together in confusion.

"Hi! Clint Barton!" Clint greeted with an outstretched hand. Bucky stared at it then leaned around Clint to look at Steve, silently asking him 'Is he for real?'

"Buck, this is Clint," Steve said.

"Nice to meet you, Buck. I used to be a carny," Clint said, shaking Bucky's hand vigorously.

"Uhh, yeah, sure. Congratulations," Bucky answered absently, then turned his attention to Steve. "Shouldn't you be in class right now?" Then in an urgent whisper, "Not picking up lost country bumpkins?" Steve grinned.

"Clint kind of... found me?" They turned to see Clint watching them quite earnestly. Bucky pursed his lips and shrugged.

"So you said you do what?"

"Did," Clint corrected. "Carny. Archery mostly with a few acrobatics thrown in for good measure, though there really isn't anything there I haven't done at least once."

"Lion taming?" Clint flapped his hand.

"Brutus is just a big kitten. Loves to purr and snuggle. Wouldn't hurt a fly."

"Clown car?"

"Never. Again," Clint stabbed a finger at them and said nothing more. Steve and Bucky exchanged looks then snickered.

"Tightrope?"

"Oh yeah. That was good, that and the trapeze. Nothing quite like flying through the air with the greatest of ease."

"You must be quite a daring young man, then," Steve said with a straight face. Clint's lips quivered for a moment, then he burst into peals of laughter that eventually had Steve and Bucky following along.

"What did I miss out on?" Steve looked up to see Natasha coming up behind Clint. "Who's this?" she asked again as she sat herself in the chair beside him.

"Nat, this is--" he suddenly stopped when both Natasha's and Clint's eyes widened in sudden surprise as soon as they saw each other. They recognized each other, that much Steve understood.

"Tash..." Clint breathed out. Natasha blinked, startled, and then shook herself.

"You know each other?" Bucky asked.

"High school," Natasha answered shortly. "We were on the same club."

"Club, yes." Clint's tone was odd, but Steve didn't want to pry.

"It's Clint's first day here," Steve offered. "He used to be in the circus." Natasha shot another surprised look at Clint, generating a stillness in the group for a moment before she barked out a sudden laugh.

"The _circus_?!!" she crowed between giggles. Clint nudged her with his shoulder.

"Hey, not all of us can afford a college education," he said, but he didn’t seem offended. He was smiling, if anything, and Steve completely understood. It took a lot to make Natasha laugh; watching her do so was like seeing a rainbow. Natasha wiped her eyes and laughed the last of her laughs.

"Yes, well," she said.

"Oh, hey," Bucky suddenly cut in before they could say anything more. He gestured to behind Natasha and Clint at an unfamiliar man, neatly dressed, measured movements, and serene smile. He was moving from table to table, talking to students of various year levels and degrees--randomly, it looked like. "Isn't that the new chancellor?" Natasha and Clint turned to look before she gave him an incredulous look.

"Coulson's here?!" she snapped. Clint shrugged.

"I wouldn't know anything about it." Natasha narrowed her eyes at him, then saw Bucky and Steve's confused frowns.

“High school principal,” she explained. Steve’s eyebrows lifted in surprise.

“Two high school reunions in one day? That’s strangely coincidental.” She only shrugged, so Steve looked back at the new chancellor and watched him head their way. He knew that it was inevitable that he'd stop at their table, so he asked Natasha, "What's he like?" She had to take a moment to think about it.

"He's... fair I guess would be the best way to describe him," she answered, all of them watching his progression through the students, chatting with them, shaking hands here and there. "A stickler for rules, but he's been known to bend them in special cases. Everyone at school was scared of him, but they also loved him. Frankly, the best school administrator I've had."

"He once had this problem student," Clint started, conspiratorially. Natasha's lip kicked up minutely at one corner. "New transfer to the school. God, that girl was horrible. Picking fights with everyone, drinking on campus, was in detention more than she was in class. Any sane principal would have kicked her out--more trouble than she was worth, really." Natasha nodded in agreement. "Not Coulson, though. He had her brought to his office. Fifteen minutes later, she comes out, quiet and thoughtful as can be. He does the same thing for the next three months. After that, went on to do bigger and better things, she did." Clint nodded as if to emphasize his point. “Of course some of the students thought they were sleeping together. Never could really prove it, but I knew it wasn’t true.” Natasha grinned and elbowed him in the side.

"Oh. Well, that's... good," Steve managed to answer before the chancellor came up behind Natasha and Clint.

"Ms. Romanov. Mr. Barton," he greeted with a warm smile. "Can’t say I’m not surprised to meet you here." Natasha shrugged, but Clint tilted his head back to look at Coulson upside down.

"Long time no see, bossman," he said with a broad grin.

"Quite," was the chancellor's answer, a fond smile on his lips. Then he turned to Steve and Bucky. "Philip J. Coulson." he held out his hand to shake which Steve did to be polite, but it was incredibly awkward. He'd never actually spoken directly to any head of school before yesterday. He'd only seen them mostly at school activities and ceremonies and even then from a distance.

"Are you seriously going around the school introducing yourself to each and every student?" Clint asked. If Bucky had said it, Steve would have already kicked his shin and told him to be polite. Coulson's smile never faltered.

"Unfortunately, that wouldn't be quite possible. Just to a few, and hopefully the word spreads that my door is open to any student, anytime, for any reason.” He looked straight at Steve. “You'll help me out and spread that rumor, won't you?" And it was actually a pretty cool thing for someone like him to be as accessible as that, so Steve nodded.

"Yes," he agreed with a smile. "Yes, of course." Coulson's smile was grateful.

"In that case, you have my thanks," he said then walked away. He stopped suddenly after a few feet and then turned back to them. "I'm very eager to see us win on Friday, Mr. Rogers." Friday was the first playoff game of the season. Steve nodded once more, brightened by his encouragement. Coulson nodded back then left.


	11. Chapter 11

Steve knew Coach Phillips's pre-game "pep talk" like the back of his hand. It was beautiful and inspiring and _always the same_ game after game, like he had had a professional scriptwriter make it just so that he could memorize it, and it was always delivered in that deadpan tone of his. The man either did not care for or was completely incapable of pep talks.

It didn't matter, though, because as soon as that was over and done with ("Let's get out there and win!" Exclamation point optional.), the real pep talk began.

"Morita, if I see you one more time where you aren't supposed to be, I'm going to make damn sure you are gonna be anywhere near the damn field again!" Jim looked both abashed and cheeky at the same time. They both knew that he’d never obey and that Phillips would never kick him off the team anyway.

"Gotcha, boss!" The coach narrowed his eyes at him, but eventually did look away, barking out a "Barnes!" as he did. Bucky looked like a deer caught in headlights, and Steve couldn't help but snicker.

"Coach!"

"You. Do. Not. Engage. Do you understand?" Bucky nodded. "Your job is to get close enough to the end goal as you need to throw the damn ball over their heads and through our posts. Your job is _not_ to engage the enemy. And Dugan, I swear to God, if Barnes gets tackled before he's close enough, you are doing laps until your legs fall off." DumDum grinned and saluted before turning to Bucky.

"You just stay behind me, princess, and I'll protect your pretty little ass," he told Bucky with an eyebrow waggle. Bucky grinned and put his wrist to his forehead, feigning a faint to land hard on top of DumDum and crash them both to the floor.

"My hero," he said in a breathy falsetto as he did.

"Off, asshole!" DumDum laughed, shoving Bucky off him. The coach glared at them both, then snapped his gaze back to the team.

"We are going to win this game, no ifs and buts about it, am I understood? Or else, we are going to train so hard for the next month, your girlfriends--"

"And boyfriends!" Falsworth interjected purely for Steve’s benefit--he was the only one with one. Coach stopped for a second.

"--and boyfriends," he conceded, "will be dumping your sorry asses for not paying them enough attention."

"Yes, Coach!" was their immediate and emphatic chorus.

"Now, if Barnes and Dugan have finished flirting with each other--” Bucky and DumDum made kissy faces at each other, earning laughs all around. “--let's get out there and kick their scrawny asses back into the hellhole they crawled out of!”

“YEAH!!”

And with that, it. Was. On.

Steve grabbed his helmet and lead the way out the locker room, marching his team through the hallways and the crowd of student photographers and admirers. They slowly picked up speed (and energy) as they went until they were jogging straight into the thundering roar of the football stadium. He lifted his helmet up to salute the home crowd--his crowd--and earned deafening screams in return. For that, a huge grin broke out on his face as he surveyed the audience because there really was nothing like a cheering home crowd to pump you up for a game.

And then he saw him. 

Front and center with Chancellor Coulson on one side, an unknown brown-haired, bespectacled man on the other, and a group of other people Steve could right now only vaguely identify around them, Tony smiled at him calmly, as though the students around him weren’t going berserk, and gave him a small wave.

Steve stumbled, and Sam smacked into his back.

“What’s going on, Cap?” he asked, vaguely annoyed, but then he caught Steve’s line of sight and grinned broadly. “Oh, I see how it is,” he said, then to the team shouted, “Yo! Cap’s lookin’ to impress his sweetheart right over there!” Good-hearted jeers were thrown Steve’s way, making him blush and laugh at the same time. “What say we set him up to put on a damn good show for his boy!” A loud chorus of agreement erupted from the group. They slapped his back as they passed him, but Steve ignored them to give Tony a small salute.

‘I love you,’ Tony mouthed, and Steve took that as his signal to put his helmet on and jog to his team and motion them into a huddle.

“You are _not_ ruining our plays to help me impress Tony,” he told them firmly, but the smile on his face felt just a little bit goofy, and he was sure they would see it and know it for what it was. 

“You know us better than that, Cap,” Bucky said, nudging him. And yes. Unfortunately, he did. He knew they were going to sacrifice their well practiced plays to help him show off (and he couldn’t deny that he was planning to do just that) because they were all a bunch of idiots and were the best group of friends a guy could have--he only hoped their trust and knowledge of each other would be enough to compensate for their surprise plays.

“Yeah, yeah,” he grinned and then barked out their first play.

All the time, he felt Tony's eyes on him, watching each pass of the ball, each catch, each tackle. After each touchdown, Steve felt his eyes searching for Tony's just to see that small crinkle of approval. Not once did Tony's phone surface, not once was Steve left hanging. He felt stronger for it, he knew, and wasn't that just the most cliched thing in the history of the sport.

Nevertheless, despite Coach Phillips screaming hell at them from the sidelines, despite the fumbles and intercepted passes that were the result of their botched attempts at helping Steve show off, victory came easily for them.

Steve ran for Tony after the last touchdown, the football still in hand. His team parted to grant him passage where they would have normally hoisted him up on their shoulders or tackled him to the ground. Steve was thankful for it, really, but right now, his only focus was on Tony, still standing and smiling at the edge of the bleachers.

Time slowed and his heartbeat drowned out the sights and sounds of everyone not Tony. He dropped his helmet and the ball and hopped up on the railing in front of him, looking for signs in his lover asking him to stop.

He found none. 

Instead, Tony reached out to pull him forward and cradle his head, kissing him like he had never done before.

The stadium _exploded_ , but Steve barely noticed. He only pulled Tony closer by the waist and tilted his head to deepen the kiss.

He was breathless when they pulled apart and his lips tingled, but Tony's mouth was swollen and wet and smiling, so it was okay that cameras were flashing like crazy all around them and that he was dizzy from the lights, the noise, and all-around giddiness.

“Go take a shower. I’ll meet you at the locker rooms,” Tony told him, his voice barely above a whisper, but they were standing so close to each other that Steve heard it easily above the screams around them.

“Yeah, okay,” Steve answered and jumped back off the railings. That was when someone jerked him back by the back of his jersey and dragged him down to the bottom of a dogpile. He laughed and pushed at his teammates above him. “Get off!” he tried to say, but his voice was muffled by the shoulder pressing against his jaw. When he was finally let up, he said fondly, “Assholes,” shoving at Falsworth who had slung an arm over his shoulders as they jogged back to the locker rooms.

“Your life is a fucking movie, Cap,” he was told.


	12. Chapter 12

He emerged from the shower with a towel wrapped snugly around his waist. Where he usually didn’t mind nudity in front of his teammates, Tony promised to meet him in the locker rooms, and sporting a semi wasn’t something he was planning on displaying to his teammates.

He found Tony waiting by his locker, texting on his phone by the looks of it, but when he made his presence known, the phone was easily stashed. The head-to-toe look of hunger made Steve shiver all over, and when he was close enough, Tony snagged the waist of his towel and pulled him close. Their cocks lined up so perfectly at the move that Steve wasn’t quite sure if that had been intentional or not--the small thrust of his hips against the billionaire’s, however, wasn’t. He crowded Tony up against the wall of metal, taking advantage of his height to tilt Tony’s head back and kiss him. The thrill of reversing their positions ran up his spine.

“In a frisky mood, are we?” Tony murmured against his mouth, a grin tugging at his lips. Steve gave a noncommittal noise. “Don’t worry babe. I have plans for us tonight,” Tony promised, kissing Steve and reaching up to pinch one of his bared nipples. Steve jerked forward, slamming Tony back against the lockers noisily as a result. Tony only chuckled and repeated the action to the other, then he dipped his head and ran the flat of his tongue over it.

“Fuck…” Steve moaned, digging his fingers into the meat of Tony’s hips.

“Yeah, we’ll get to that,” Tony promised, kissing him once more then ducking out of his arms. “Go see Bruce,” he said, pushing at Steve’s shoulders, directing him to the medical room. “He’s my personal doctor--and my friend--I brought him to have a look at your team after the game.” But Steve dug his heels into the ground and turned to face Tony.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea right now,” he said, then looked down to explain why. Tony’s lips twitched a laugh when he caught sight of Steve’s erection tenting his towel. He then looked around the fairly empty area (they could hear voices a few locker rows over) quickly and dragged Steve into the nearest shower stall. “Tony…” Steve started, but Tony ignored him and slid to his knees. The floor was wet, and Tony’s pants would be, too, but Steve forgot all about that when the towel slid from his hips and his cock disappeared into the heat of Tony’s mouth. 

His head jerked back and hit the wall behind him, and his hips thrust forward at the same time, pushing himself into Tony’s mouth and forcing a choked breath out of him. Tony only just managed to grip his hips to keep him from jerking forward again. It was that that calmed Steve enough so that when Tony sucked on him once more, he held still and moaned quietly instead.

Tony’s tongue was talent personified. It teased him, and massaged, and stroked his cock while his mouth applied a gentle vacuum around it. At times, he withdrew and allowed the cool air to wash over his length while he nipped at teased the head. At other times, he took Steve so far in that he felt the back of Tony’s throat on the tip of his cock.

When Tony was sure Steve wouldn’t jerk forward again, he released his grip on one hip to palm at Steve’s balls. He rolled them in his fingers and squeezed them gently, making Steve gasp and whine. He pulled off the cock in his mouth and dipped his head to lap at the balls in his hand. Then he took them into his mouth one at a time and sucked on them.

His orgasm neared, and Steve’s knees were buckling in response. His hands scrabbled at the wall for a hand hold. Finding none, he thrust them instead into Tony’s hair and held on for dear life while Tony, ignoring Steve’s predicament, drove him insane.

He tried to keep still and keep quiet, he really did, but Tony… Tony was divine. And when a single finger suddenly slid into his hole, he yelped a moan and came and came and came. Then Tony’s mouth was pressed against his, his lips were forced open by Tony’s tongue, and come--his come--trickled into his mouth.

Steve choked a sob while their tongues shared his fluid between them and then Tony tilted Steve’s head back and pulled away, making Steve swallow down his own seed. Tony licked his lips, then Steve’s.

“Better?” he asked with a self-satisfied grin.

“No,” Steve huffed. “God, no. Not even close.” But Tony only laughed, wrapped the towel back around Steve’s waist, and tugged him out of the shower stall. Half the team were chatting near the shower doorway when they entered the locker area, and thus, Tony’s plan to send him to Bruce inconspicuously was rendered useless. Steve’s embarrassment was so intense that he literally ran, dragging Tony, to the med area, slamming the door behind him. Inside, Jones, Morita, and Clint took one look at Tony’s wet knees and Steve’s blush and grinned, so Steve stabbed a finger at them. “Not. A. Word,” he hissed, without heat. Gabe shrugged innocently.

“Wasn’t gonna say nothing, Cap,” he said. Steve glared at Morita as he was about to open his mouth.

“I swear to God,” he said firmly, and Morita snapped his mouth shut and mimed locking it. Clint made a sound, and Steve whirled on him. “Do _not_ make me regret putting you on the team, Barton.” But Clint was only grinning madly.

“I don’t think ‘water boy’ counts as being ‘on the team,’ Cap,” he answered. 

“Which is why I fail to see the need for your presence here, Mr. Barton,” the serene voice of the doctor who had been checking Gabe over said. Tony, who was clearly suppressing a laugh, gestured to him.

“Steve, this is Bruce. Bruce Banner, Steve Rogers,” he introduced. Bruce dropped the stethoscope and held out a hand to shake.

“A pleasure, Mr. Rogers,” he said with a warm smile. Steve blushed again.

“You, too,” he answered. Bruce turned to Gabe.

“I see nothing wrong with you, Mr. Jones, except for that shoulder sprain. Just keep some ice on it tonight and you’ll be fine in a few days, but I’m sure you already knew that,” he said, effectively dismissing him. Gabe nodded and picked himself up off of the gurney with a ‘thanks, doc.’ Bruce offered them a kind smile, and when the door shut behind the three (or rather in their gleefully teasing faces, Steve made sure), he told Steve, “Have a seat, Steve.” The examination proceeded with ease, Bruce asking questions and checking him over with various instruments. All-in-all, it wasn’t different from any other check-up Steve had. “You have absolutely nothing to worry about, Steve. You’re in perfect shape,” Bruce concluded before starting to pack up his things, and then, to Tony, said with a pointed look, “The check-up wasn’t really necessary, Tony.” Tony shrugged.

“Yes, well. I’d just like to make sure,” he answered. Steve gave him a bright smile.

“So, Steve,” Bruce started. “It’s nice to finally meet you. I’ve heard a great many things.” Steve blushed and rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment.

"I apologize if I can't say the same, Dr. Banner," he answered, quite unsure how to address that declaration, but Bruce only waved a hand absently.

"You have absolutely nothing to be sorry for, Steve," he assured Steve with a gentle smile. " _Tony_ , on the other hand." There was mock accusation in his voice. Tony gave him a ‘what?’ look. "I'm old hat. He doesn't like talking about that." Tony huffed indignantly.

"I don’t think you’re ‘old hat,’ Brucey. But maybe, if you visited more often, I'd have more of you to talk about," the billionaire retorted.

"Yes, well, I apologize for having too many orphans in Southeast Asia to save," Bruce rolled his eyes, but his smile was fond. Steve was growing to like him.

"You came from Asia?" he asked.

"Recently, yes, I work with a group that travels the world, providing medical care to the poor in third world countries," Bruce answered. And wow. That was one of the most heroic things Steve could think of doing.

"What's it called?" Steve asked. Bruce's mouth quirked a grin. Then he tipped his head in Tony's direction.

"The Maria Stark Foundation." Steve's eyes grew round and wide. God, could he boyfriend _be_ any more perfect.

"That sounds really great," he said sincerely, then in a wistful voice added, "I wish I could come with you someday."

"No!" Tony declared before Bruce could get a word in. "No, Bruce, you are not dragging my boyfriend halfway around the world without me." Steve opened his mouth to say that Tony could come, too, but Tony stopped him as well. "And _no_ , Steve. I love you, and I will give you anything you want, but I am not dropping everything to fly us into a muddy, mosquito-infested jungle where we’re in constant danger of getting malaria." His tone was just a little bit snotty, and though he should have been annoyed, Steve only snickered.

"You, Tony, have a fundamental misunderstanding of third-world countries," Bruce said with a shake of his head. Then he patted Steve's knee. "You can look me up when you’re free," he said with a smile. "I’d say when you’re out of college, but apparently he turns into a mother hen when he's in love." Steve's grin was goofy when he looked at Tony.

"Yeah?" he asked teasingly. Tony only twisted his lips in a moue (to avoid grinning, Steve knew) and looked away.

"Only because I'd prefer you to be in good condition when I fuck you," he answered haughtily. Steve's blush was sudden and burning, but Bruce only laughed.

"Aaand that’s my cue to go," he declared, standing and picking up his bag.

"Happy will take you home," Tony told him and gave him a brief hug as he passed by. "I'll see you tomorrow." Bruce turned back to Steve and gave him a small wave. Then the door was shut behind him, and Steve suddenly found his mouth occupied.

Tony grasped the back of his neck, tilting his head back as he leaned over him, one knee pressed to the bed on which Steve sat, brushing against his flank. His earlier embarrassment quickly turned into burning want, and despite having come just a few minutes ago, Steve felt his erection straining once more against his towel. He fumbled for Tony's belt, but the billionaire pulled out of reach.

"Not yet," Tony gasped, visibly reigning himself in. "Not here." He raked a hand through his hair and leaned forward once more to press a much briefer kiss against Steve's mouth. "Go get dressed," he told Steve. "I'll meet you out front." His smile was small, but gorgeous, and Steve couldn't not kiss him for it.

He must have dressed and ran out of the locker room in record time, barely stopping to bid his team a 'good game.' Hoots and catcalls followed him out, but he only laughed giddily.

It didn't take long for him to find Tony--the billionaire stood right in front of the building entrance, a lit cigarette in hand and leaning against a gorgeous blue Mustang, undoubtedly a small and relatively less expensive part of his expansive car collection, though Steve couldn't remember having seen it before.

"Nice ride," he remarked. Tony's grin was enormous as he walked closer to both stub his cigarette out in the nearest trashbin and snag Steve by the belt loops.

"You think?" he asked as he dragged him in for a smoky kiss.

"Mmm... Probably not the best ride I'd have--" And he rocked his hips against Tony to make a point. His boyfriend laughed. "--but I'm sure it'd be pretty high up there."

"That makes me very happy to hear, babe," Tony murmured against his mouth, and before Steve could ask why, he felt something pressed into his palm. He jerked back in surprise and saw a set of car keys in his hand.

"W--What…?" he stuttered, confused and a little bit alarmed. "Tony, this is--" He stopped then laughed, and maybe it was a bit hysterical. "I can't--" Tony shut him up with a hard kiss, and when Steve tried to stop him so that they could _talk goddammit_ , Tony grabbed his head to hold him in place and proceeded to fuck his mouth with his tongue until his knees were little more than jelly and he had forgotten they were still in front of the stadium's entrance (though thankfully fairly empty now that most everyone had left).

"I didn't buy that for you," Tony told him as he walked Steve backwards to press him up against the side of the car. His voice was low, guttural, and filthy, but Steve only felt relieved. He was so _relieved_ because he didn't know what he would do with a gift that gorgeous, that expensive. "I bought it for myself ages ago. But--" Tony pinned him down harder as if expecting him to bolt. "--I am giving it to you now because I am a selfish, selfish man because I plan to do filthy, wicked, utterly _depraved_ things to you in it, and I want you to remember those things everyday when you use this." The sound that left Steve wasn't human. "I'm going to fuck you right into next week, babe; you won't be able to sit right for so long," Tony hissed into his ear, and Steve… Steve couldn't move, couldn't _think_. "And when you take this baby out for class, for grocery runs, for visiting your mom, all you'll be able to think about is how good my cock feels in your sweet, sweet ass, how loose I make your hole after I've used you, how I fucking _ruin_ you for anyone else."

"Tony…" Steve whimpered, begging, begging, _begging _because Tony's words were music to his ears.__

"Don't you want that, Steve? Don't you want to be hard for me every time you take her out for a ride? Because I want that, Steve, and I'll know… I'll know you are," Tony dipped his head and bit softly into the flesh beneath Steve's ear.

"God, yes... Tony, Tony, please, I can't…!" Tony shushed him gently, but he was grinning triumphantly, an expression Steve wanted to wipe off his face if he could only get his brain to comply.

"I'll drive," Tony told him.


	13. Chapter 13

The sound of the water splashing and sloshing in its container dominated the pool area--the pool's single occupant fueling the noise as he sliced right through the middle--though there were quite a number of people occupying the area: some at afternoon tea, murmuring gossip, some lounging beneath the sun, working on an authentic California tan, some just passing through. This was, after all, the best hotel in California; noise and rowdiness were just not tolerated.

Tony himself was silent as he lounged beneath an umbrella where he was in the best position to watch the water ripple over Steve's beautifully muscled back. If he were a weaker man, he'd already have Steve sprawled out beneath him, crying in ecstasy. As it was, Tony kept his other eye on the stack of papers he held in his hands. He still wore two thirds of the suit he sported to the meeting earlier that afternoon before he'd come back to find Steve swimming.

Steve promised to finish just a few more laps before they go back upstairs for dinner because apparently a vacation was no excuse for missing a workout. Tony agreed easily enough because watching Steve in his swimming shorts (tiny, _tiny_ swimming shorts) was no hardship.

"You done, Tones?" Obi asked, coming up on his right.

Oh. Right. He was supposed to be reviewing the supplier contract.

"I think it's fine," he said, not entirely sure if that was true. He scribbled his signature onto the designated pages and handed it back to Obi, looking up just in time to watch Steve hauling himself out of the pool.

The water sluiced down his body in a waterfall of motion, from hair to chest to his washboard abs, and Tony suddenly forgot where they were. Steve cocked a tiny grin at him and pulled himself all the way out. Tony was not ashamed to admit he had been staring at Steve's glistening, wet chest for far too long until he half-turned to give someone a salute and to Tony a tantalizing glimpse of his ass.

"Nice meeting you!" he heard Steve call out to someone, but Tony couldn't see who that was because he was quite busy ogling his boyfriend's body. Beside him, he heard Obi give a low whistle.

"That is one fantastic piece of ass you've got there, Tony," he said, quietly enough for only Tony to hear. And it was true. So very, very true. "You better keep a close eye on him or someone's going to snatch him right up. He'll be getting propositions left, right, and center now." 

True enough, a woman well into her forties came up to Steve, standing a little too close for Tony's comfort. He narrowed his eyes as he watched her flirt with Steve and Steve blush and stammer. Then Steve pointed to Tony, and he and the woman glared at each other for half a moment before suddenly giving each other polite smiles and tiny waves in the form of fluttering fingers. Then she said something to Steve with a sultry undulation of her body before nearly stomping away. Steve watched her go, a little dumbstruck, then turned to Tony to give him a bemused shrug and, after that, his classic boy-next-door aw-shucks smile. And just like that, the woman was put out of his mind.

"Done?" he asked as Steve sashayed over--yes, he was fucking sashaying, the tart.

"Yep, I'm done," he confirmed. The little shit, though, instead of grabbing his towel and wiping himself down so that they could _go back upstairs and Tony could fuck him stupid over the dining table_ , threw one leg over Tony's, straddling him and grinning impishly. The crotch of Tony's pants immediately grew wet and stuck themselves against his now-hard cock.

"...You did not just do that," Tony rasped because suddenly his vocal chords were no longer working properly.

"Do what, Tony?" Steve asked, eyes all doe wide and innocent.

And _oh_.

Oh, was that how he wanted to play it? He should know that Tony wasn't one to back down from a challenge. Tony was going to _ruin_ him, was going to make him beg for mercy before the night was up.

"I'll be going now, Tony," Obi said. Tony had completely forgotten about him.

"Yeah. Send Pepper a copy of the contract," he said absently, nearly moaning because Steve was subtly grinding himself down against Tony's cock. And fuck, where was this daring vixen back in New York? There had to be something in the water here in California that turned innocent virgins into seductive sluts.

He gripped Steve's hips, digging his fingers right down to the bone just to hear a soft 'oh' fall from his mouth. It was a warning, a promise.

"I hope you know what you're doing," he growled. Steve grinned back.

"You mean driving my boyfriend crazy in a roomful of people?" he asked. "Yeah. Kinda."

"And what's stopping me from taking you up on your offer right here?" Tony asked. Steve rolled his eyes.

"A _roomful of people_ , Tony," he answered, as if that made a difference.

"Yes, and?" Tony asked flatly, an eyebrow lifted. His fingers dug further into Steve's hips so that he could grind himself up against the younger man. That's when Steve's eyes grew wide.

"Tony…"

"You should know better than to dare me, darling," Tony purred, reaching up to bring Steve down for a kiss. There was a nervous hesitance in his mouth, and Tony nearly laughed. Instead, he whispered in a low, dangerous tone, "How about I give you thirty seconds to get back up to our room, or else I'm taking your pretty ass where I find you?" Steve was out of his lap and halfway to the building before Tony could tell him he was just teasing and that he was absolutely _not_ participating in public sex.

_Ah, well_ … he thought and stood up to brush his pants off. He caught confused and amused stares at his wet lap, but there really wasn't anything he could do about that except exude the Stark confidence. At best, he could expect it to be a fashion trend by Monday. At worst… Well, he'd been photographed in worse states.

The elevator dinged to let him off at the penthouse. It took a second of fiddling to open the door and step inside, and then he found himself pressed up against the nearest wall, pinned there by a mouth against his own. His hand found Steve's still-wet trunks and used that to drag him closer.

"You little slut," Tony groaned into Steve's mouth. Steve moaned an indecipherable answer, pressing Tony further into the wall. This was beautiful, was excellent. He could come quite easily with Steve just rutting up against him. But this wasn't what he wanted. He wanted Steve ass up and head down. He wanted to see him used and fucked out. He needed to see him cry.

He grabbed Steve's hair and pulled him back and down to his knees. Then he used the hair in his fist to keep him still while he rubbed his clothed cock over his face. Steve opened his mouth to lick at him, nevermind that his pants were still in the way.

"Yeah, look at you," Tony growled, rutting himself against Steve's face. God, Steve looked like he was about to come in his shorts from this alone--not that he was alone in that. "You love this, don't you? Love me using you, love me calling you filthy names, love me taking you hard and dirty." Steve's nod was eager and frantic in equal parts. Tony didn't think he even knew how laboured his breath had become, hitching every few seconds. "God. Aren't you just the most perfect thing? This is how you should be all the time: taken hard and put away wet."

"Tony, please!" Steve begged. His hands curled around Tony's calves, holding tight.

"Yes, like that, beg me for what you want. Tell me," Tony commanded, tightening his hand harder and tugging Steve's head back further. Steve looked suddenly fraught with desperation.

"Fuck me, like you said. Hard and dirty. Use me, use my ass how you want. Tony, please, I want that," he said urgently, hid body strung with tension and anticipation, so Tony released his hair and pet it briefly, then told him:

"Take your shorts off. Wait for me here." Steve was already naked before Tony had even reached the bedroom for their lube, and when Tony walked back out into the kitchen, he followed Tony's movements with lust-ridden eyes. Tony tossed the lube to him. "Open yourself up while I fuck your mouth." Steve's jaw opened with no further prompting, and Tony just _had_ to kiss him. "How are you so perfect?" he murmured, breaking character for just a moment. He took one of Steve's hands and pressed a kiss to the knuckles. Then he pressed it to his hip and Steve instinctively curled it, holding tight. In the same gentle tone, he instructed, "This stays here. You don't let go until you want me to stop. If you let go, we stop everything immediately, okay?" Steve nodded. "Squeeze if you want to slow down." Steve tested it out by squeezing, and then nodded again.

"Yes, Tony."

"Good boy," Tony praised with a pet or two to his hair. Then he stood and pulled his cock out from his pants. He stroked Steve's lower lip with his thumb once before he tugged his jaw down and pushed himself in. "Hold still," was his quiet order. He heard the telltale snick of the lube cap just as he pulled out and pushed back in. Steve was such a good, obedient boy.

But Tony promised him a face fucking, so with a quiet warning, he thrust himself deep and fast. Steve gagged as the head of his cock pushed into the back of his throat, but Tony didn't relent and repeated the motion once, twice, almost a third but Steve suddenly squeezed his hip once. It was all the warning Tony needed and immediately pulled out.

It was fine, it was _fine_ , Tony told himself, as he fell to his knees before Steve to check for signs of distress. His blue eyes were watery, and he kept swallowing, but he looked more embarrassed than anything. The lump in Tony’s throat loosened, and his heart slowed to its regular beat.

“Are you okay? What was it?” he asked, stroking Steve’s cheek, and giving him apologetic kisses. “Too fast?”

Steve quickly explained, "I felt like I was going to throw up." His smile was embarrassed and apologetic. "Mood killer." 

Ah. Tony understood and smiled gently at him.

"It's meant to feel like that, baby," he explained. He stroked Steve's cheek just because. "You won't though if you haven't eaten for a while. When did you last eat?"

"Two… Maybe three hours ago," Steve answered after a moment's pause. Tony nodded.

"You'll be fine, I promise.” He kissed him, then asked, “Do you want to try again?" Steve looked hesitant, though, so Tony pressed a softer, deeper kiss to his mouth. "It's okay to say no, darling," he told him. Steve nodded; of course he knew that or else Tony would gladly kick himself in the nuts for making him think otherwise. "Just know, though, that you are legitimately gorgeous when you're choking on my cock," Tony murmured. He reached out to stroke Steve's cock. "I want you like that all the time. Giving yourself to me, desperately submitting to my wants. I want to make you cry--you're gorgeous when you do."

"Tony…" Steve's eyes slid shut, but his breaths, suddenly deep and heaving, were telling enough. Tony kissed him again.

"Do you want to try again?"

"I--Okay," Steve stuttered, voice stumbling over a moan. Tony kissed his cheek with a whispered 'thank you,' then his neck, and then stood, taking Steve's hand with him on his hip.

"Same rules, Steve: squeeze to slow, drop to stop. Open your mouth," he said, thrilled when Steve complied readily. He didn't put his cock back in just yet, though. "Open yourself up for me. When I'm done fucking your mouth, I'm going to fuck you right here on the floor." Steve nodded, mouth still parted. Tony allowed it for a few seconds longer, just enough to see Steve's jaw shake with effort, then he sunk himself in with a single thrust, pushing the breath out of him. His tip just barely grazed the back of his mouth, not enough to make Steve choke just yet, but enough to hint at it.

His first few thrusts were like that, shallow enough to tease, but deep enough to prepare, and when Steve looked like he was about to break from anticipation, Tony pushed himself all the way in. The head of his cock sunk into Steve's throat, and almost immediately, Tony felt it spasming around him. Choked sounds escaped Steve, and his eyes welled up, but his hand stayed steady and still.

"Fuck," Tony whispered under his breath as he pulled out to give Steve a moment to breathe. On his next thrust, he held there for a few seconds longer to feel his cock squeezed and massaged by Steve’s struggling throat. "Fuck, look at you," Tony breathe, awestruck, as he pulled out, though he left his cock to rest on Steve's tongue. Steve looked up at him, his eyes wet with unshed tears, but looking proud of himself. "The things you let me do to you, Steve… I want to keep you forever." Steve's smile was disarming. Tony found himself wanting to kiss him breathless. 

Instead, he watched as Steve sunk down on him as far as he was able and tug Tony the rest of the way. Tony pushed his hand through Steve's hair and held tight. "I'm going to fuck you now," he warned. "I won’t stop until you come or you cry for me." Steve’s nod was all the permission Tony nodded to ram into his throat, dragging a choked moan out of him.

He grabbed his jaw with his free hand and held Steve’s mouth open wider than was comfortable for Steve but easier for Tony. Then he fucked Steve’s mouth rapidly, once, twice, ten times. He pushed himself into his lover, right until Steve’s nose was pressed into Tony's pubic hair and half Tony’s cock was sunk in his throat, and then Tony ground himself into his face. His balls rubbed against Steve’s chin, and his cock stretched the tight flesh around it. The hand holding Steve’s hair dropped to his neck, squeezing lightly so that he could feel his cock move through Steve’s skin.

All the while, the sounds Steve made-- _God_. He could listen to them forever.

He pulled back to give Steve a few seconds to breathe and then pried his jaw loose once more and sunk back into him. His thrusts were short, but deep, working the head of his cock up and down Steve’s windpipe. 

It was all he could take not to come right there because he had _designs_ on Steve’s ass, but Steve did his very best to make holding back that much more difficult. And then Steve’s eyes slid shut, and the first tear fell from his eye.

Tony pulled himself out and fell to his knees in front of Steve, cock forgotten in favor of kissing him, wet and hard, and forcing Steve's mouth wide, taking, taking, _taking_. Steve gave him all, gave him exactly what he wanted through sobbing breaths. His hands clutched at Tony’s clothes and dragged him closer, seemingly needing the support.

"Fuck, Steve," Tony groaned when they needed the air. He pressed their foreheads together and just _breathed_. "God, I love that you let me do that to you, and I can’t believe you did. Thank you." Steve smiled through his panting breaths.

"I could have taken more," he said, and fuck, Tony _had_ to kiss him breathlessly again.

"I know you can, baby, but I think that's enough for your first deepthroating experience." Tony kissed him again. "Next time,” he promised. “Next time, I'm going to come down your throat. Gonna fuck you so deep you won't even taste me." And goddammit if Steve didn't look so fucking eager at that. This kid was going to kill him, and Tony would be happy for it. "Bend over," he said before he could do something stupid like ask Steve to marry him. "You'd better be ready for me, babe, I'm not planning to give you a break."

"Yes, Tony," Steve answered, breathily, excitedly, smugly, as he shifted to all fours. Tony planted a hand between his shoulder blades until his cheek was pressed against the floor.

"Good boy," Tony answered. It was almost absently said as Tony inspected the puffy, red, slicked hole before him. It was begging to be licked; Steve would _cry_. That thought--Steve begging and sobbing and incoherent--almost had Tony doing so. But no. Not now; he'd teased them both enough. He just wanted to sink himself into Steve and fuck all his troubles away.

He rubbed the head of his cock over Steve's hole to get a groan out of him.

"Tony…" Steve said, and it sounded a lot like begging.

"Shhh," Tony murmured, stroking his back. "Teasing little sluts don't get a say in how they're fucked." Steve moaned and arched his back.

"Please," he begged. His ass rocked against Tony's cock, rubbing his hole against the head. Tony bit his lip to hold back a moan, but _goddamn_.

"Slut," he taunted gently, rubbing his cock back against the fluttering hole. Steve whimpered another ' _Please_ ' writhing to seek purchase against Tony's cock. "Filthy boy," Tony murmured again, his voice calm and even. Deadpan almost.

"Yes. God, yes. Please, Tony, fuck me please. I'm such a filthy boy, fuck me, punish me, anything. Tony, _please_!" And that… That almost did Tony in. He had to pull back far and away before they got to the main event.

"I don't know," he said, teasing Steve, but really he was pulling a condom on and slicking himself up, readying himself to take that willing ass. "If you're begging for it, then it's quite the opposite of punishment, isn't it? Whereas if I _don't_ fuck you--"

"Tony, no! Please!" Steve sobbed--sobbed! He thrust his ass back, looking for the cock promised him. Tony slapped the smooth globes of his ass once and then thrust himself neatly into the stretched hole.

Steve _wailed_.

Tony stilled and leaned over to kiss the back of his neck and whisper sweet nothings into his hair. Steve was crying, sobbing, babbling, almost worrying Tony, until he stuttered, "W--Why did you stop?" Tony's breath hitched.

"Baby--"

"Tony, please. Need you. Need you now." Tony bit his lip, kissed Steve neck one more time, and pulled himself out. The walls of Steve's ass refused to let go of him. They dragged at him, pulled him in, so when Tony had finally freed himself, he grabbed the bottle of lube and pressed its mouth against Steve's opening, squeezing to apply a _liberal_ amount directly into his loose hole.

Steve hole squelched around his cock when Tony fucked into it. Excess lube squeezed out around his cock to slide down Steve’s balls and thighs, and Tony scooped it up in the process of wrapping his hand around Steve’s cock. He jacked Steve off furiously as he fucked into his ass at the same pace, and the slick sounds of his hole being _used_ filled their air. It was positively pornographic, and Steve could do nothing but moan loud and beg with his body for more.

"Yeah, yes," Tony mumbled as he fucked into Steve's sloppy, wet, silky hole. "Fuck, yes. Can fuck you forever, Steve. God, you feel so good for me." Lube continued to slip out the ring of muscle with each of Tony's thrusts, sliding down Steve's thighs and onto the floor. It was messy and filthy, but goddamnit if it wasn't also blowing Tony's mind. There was no resistance, only Steve's ass taking what Tony was giving.

Steve sobbed. Steve begged. Steve writhed.

He was so fucking gorgeous, felt so damn _good_.

"I love you, Steve."

He hadn't meant to say that. He'd wanted to tell Steve dirty things, tell him how he wanted him used and ruined, wanted his hole loose and sloppy like this all the time, tell him how he planned to keep Steve ready and desperate for him always.

"Can't--Tony, can'tcan't _can't_."

"Let go," Tony murmured, gently stroking his flank with his other hand even as his pace never slowed. "Let go, babe. I want you to come. Give that to me." A strangled scream escaped Steve as he pressed his forehead to the tiles. His hips jerked violently as he came into Tony's hand and onto the floor. His ass clenched and stuttered around Tony's cock, and that, combined with the beautiful sounds coming from both his ends, was the end for Tony.

It didn't take three thrusts more for him to fill Steve up, himself crying out as he came. He ground his hips into Steve's ass, willing himself deeper. Steve helped, pressing back even as he whined with oversensitivity until Tony couldn’t give him any more. He pulled out and pressed his forehead to Steve's back.

"God," Tony groaned. He kissed what he could reach and stroked with his hand what he couldn't. Then he carefully pulled out and tugged the condom off.

Steve stayed perfectly still, his ass high in the air, back arched, and forehead pressed to the floor. It was such an endearing sight that Tony leaned closer and pressed a kiss to one ass cheek. Then he reached out to help Steve straighten up and gathered him into his arms.

"I don't quite know what I did to deserve you, but I'm glad I did whatever it was," he murmured before pressing kisses all over Steve's face. The answering smile was sleepy and sweet.

"Well, you're not quite so bad yourself," was his answer. "But I think this is a discussion best had in a bed over dinner." Tony chuckled and kissed him again, couldn't quite get enough of him.

"I think you're right." He helped Steve up to his feet, neither of them quite steady enough to do so, but they managed anyway. "Exchanges of flattering praise first, room service next, round two after." Steve only response was to laugh and allow Tony to relocate them to the bedroom.


	14. Chapter 14

Never stick your dick in crazy.

And Steve? Steve stuck it in and swirled it around and let crazy stick it in him, too, and now he was starting to regret it.

"No, Tony," he said firmly and maybe a little bit angrily. Tony blinked at him, and it was so utterly childish and ridiculous that Steve wondered how much of a genius he could really be if he had the apparent emotional intellect of a seven year old.

"Why?" And Steve sucked in a breath and counted to ten. He reminded himself that he loved Tony and Tony loved him, and this was just him being ridiculous.

"Yeah, Steve, why?" Bucky echoed, standing a little further off into the living room of the high-class Manhattan apartment _Tony had bought for them_ (him, really, but it made him feel a tiny bit better including Bucky in it). Steve could see Bucky was falling for it a little too hard because, frankly, it _was_ a gorgeous place--he'd be an idiot to deny that--with its huge wall of windows and fantastic view of Manhattan, its expansive floor area, and its clean, minimalist design. They'd each have a room of their own plus a guest room--fully furnished, too, like the rest of the apartment--with their own ensuite bathrooms and balconies. The state-of-the-art kitchen came fully stocked, with the promise of being restocked at Steve or Bucky's behest, they'd only have to ring up concierge. They could even have a private chef sent up if needed, Tony had told them.

"It's too much," Steve said, adamantly crossing his arms over his chest. "It's too much Tony, we can't take this." And he couldn't--he wouldn't! Because he was not a kept man, not some _whore_ that could be bought with gadgets and cars and apartments. And if Tony thought that he was--

"Babe," Tony murmured, wrapping his arms around Steve's waist from behind and pressing his lips to his hair. Steve ignored him and kept his stance because right now, Tony's touch made his skin crawl. Tony, uncontented with his reaction, turned him around (with effort, Steve was pleased to say) and kissed his mouth properly, coaxing a response out of his boyfriend. 

Steve was adamant in ignoring him, but Tony... well, Tony knew how to kiss and Tony knew how Steve liked to be kissed, so he couldn't remain standoffish for all that long. Tony cupped his cheek and stroked his back while sucking on his lips with a tenderness not seen by many, and Steve couldn't help but respond to that. This Tony was a Tony not seen by many, this was _his_ Tony--lovable, gentle, caring, generous, and playful. Sooner than he would have liked to admit, he allowed Tony to sway his resolve and found himself kissing back with equal fervor.

"I don't want to give you anything you don't want," Tony said, brushing Steve's hair back gently. "Just say the word and this is all gone." Steve opened his mouth to say exactly that, but Tony cut him off. "But please, tell me why this is bothering you. Why it keeps bothering you. Explain it to me, so that I understand and that I don't do it again." And Steve found he couldn't get mad in the light of Tony's imploring eyes. He sighed and pressed his forehead to Tony's shoulder where the billionaire immediately started petting his hair.

"I'm not…" he started, hesitant, then gritted his teeth and feigned courage and conviction by drawing on his earlier indignance. "I'm not someone you can buy, Tony." He lifted his head and looked into Tony's eyes, taking advantage of his height to stare down at the smaller man, to intimidate him. It didn't work, obviously-- _no one_ can intimidate Tony Stark--but there was a realization that seemed to spark in his eyes. "I'm not a who--" Tony cut him off by suddenly grabbing the back of his neck and drawing him down for a hard kiss--the kind of kiss that had Steve's lips bruising and his head swimming. His mouth was ravaged by Tony who seemed intent in teaching Steve a lesson he didn't understand.

"That's what you think this is?" Tony whispered against his mouth. "Me buying you off?" Steve had to shut his eyes at the intensity of Tony's voice. "Tell me," Tony dared, pulling him back by his hair so that he could stare him down, exactly as Steve had done to him and completely different at the same time because Tony could stare down a man a foot taller than him, could intimidate a man twice his size. Steve didn't stand a chance. "Tell me that, without all of this, you wouldn't let me do anything I wanted to you. Tell me that I couldn't make you fall to your knees and crawl to my feet with but a single word." Steve wouldn't tell him that because he wasn't a liar. He would do all of that, and more even. "If I asked you right now to suck me off, right here, right in front of your best friend, you'd only ask if I wanted you to be naked as well, wouldn't you?" Steve squeezed his eyes shut and nodded, only wishing that Bucky had wandered off to inspect his room. 

"Then tell me: why would I need to bribe you with this?" Steve couldn't, but said or did nothing until Tony released his hair and pulled him in for another kiss, gentle this time and apologetic.

"Steve," he murmured. "You give gifts to your loved ones, right? You give gifts to your mom and Bucky, don't you?" Steve nodded, slowly realizing he was on the losing end of this battle. "Do you expect them to cave to your wishes just because you give them something? Do you expect anything in return for your gift?" Steve shook his head. "Right. You wouldn't. You give them gifts because you're ecstatic at their happiness for having received that gift, and you'd endeavour to give them more if only to see them smile, right?" Steve nodded, carefully avoiding Tony's eyes. "So why would you think I wouldn't feel the same way? Why would you think I would expect you to sign your life over to me if I gave you this?" God, Tony was making him feel like a heel.

"It's a _house_ , Tony. In the middle of Manhattan!" he suddenly cried in a last-ditch effort to force Tony to take it back.

"And I am a billionaire," Tony pointed out, crossing his arms over his chest. "Seriously, Steve. What did you expect? A keychain from the dollar store? Of course, I'd get you something expensive. Relatively, anyway, because this? This is a drop in the bucket for me." It was a good point, a strong point that Steve really couldn't refute. "And are you telling me you wouldn't you buy your mother a house if you could afford it?" Steve sighed, and Tony beamed, knowing he had won.

"You keep equating me to my mother," he grumbled, but Tony ignored the tone and wrapped his arms around Steve's waist.

"Yeah, well maybe I don't have a mother that I could spoil like you do yours," he said easily as though not having a mother was perfectly okay, and Steve suddenly felt guilty that that had somehow come up in their conversation. Tony didn't seem too affected by it, though, so he didn't make a bigger deal out of it than it already was. "So, unfortunately for you, you're going to have to suffer my generosity instead." Steve had to chuckle. "Unless you're willing to share your mom, then I could shower her with outrageously expensive gifts as well."

"If you thought Steve was hard to give gifts to, you're gonna have your work cut out for you with his mother, Stark," Bucky suddenly chimed in, startling Steve who had forgotten his presence. He wondered how much of their conversation he heard and felt the tips of his ears burn. Tony didn't seem to be bothered, though, and, as such, refused to relinquish his hold on Steve's waist despite the other tugging out of it.

"Or I could buy you off instead, Barnes. I bet you're easy like that," he suggested--teasingly, so Steve only swatted his arm instead of punching him. Bucky only mock glared at him. "So." Tony gestured around the living room. Bucky shrugged.

"Hey, man. I'd live here every day of the rest of my life if I could. This place is fucking awesome," he had to admit because it really, really was. "But I'm with Stevie. I'm only in if he's in." Steve gave him an appreciative smile then met Tony's lifted brow.

"Well, _Stevie_?" Steve elbowed his side then rolled his eyes.

"I'm pretty sure that at this point, if I refused, I'd only be an ass." Tony grinned lasciviously.

"Well, you'd be a very pretty ass that I'd get to regularly guilt trip into sex, so I probably won't mind as much." He waggled his eyebrows, and Steve elbowed him again as Bucky fake retched. But then Steve had to kiss him because there really was little he could do to repay this.

In the end, they compromised because that’s what people do in relationships, right? So Tony took Steve’s name off the deed and put his on, and Steve and Bucky spent the entire next day moving in what meager belongings they had in their old apartment.


	15. Chapter 15

Steve ran quickly, as though possessed by Mercury himself, through the lobby of his apartment and into the elevator without his customary 'hello' to Stan, the doorman, who had easily become a friend in the posh building. Inside, after impolitely squeezing himself among the other residents, he jiggled his leg in impatience and mentally cursed those who lived in the floors below him as the elevator slowly made its way through all them, once even cursing out loud when the elevator doors opened only for no one to get on or off. Appalled looks were sent his way, but he ignored them because he was finally on his floor, squeezing out of the doors before they even fully opened and managing to open his apartment door just as the elevator dinged shut.

And then he froze at the sight before him.

That sight being Tony waltzing around the living room--with a grace Steve had only ever seen of ballroom dancers--with Sarah Rogers in his arms.

His mother was laughing joyously, her face full of delighted girlishness that Steve had never seen on her before and her smile utterly radiant that Steve's heart suddenly filled with empathetic happiness.

Tony caught sight of him first, grinning when he caught Steve's eyes, but he didn't acknowledge his presence, only leaning closer to whisper in Sarah's ear and making her giggle, then twirling her around so that she could see for herself. Steve took her grin as a sign to step into the apartment and shut the door behind him.

"Oh, thank God, you're here," Bucky said with exaggerated relief as he ran out from his room. It was he who had informed Steve of the situation developing in their apartment. Tony, meanwhile, slowly put the dance to a stop, twirling Sarah one last time before stepping back to give the back of her hand a very gentlemanly kiss. "Your boyfriend has not stopped flirting with your mother since they arrived here, and, frankly, it's freaking me out," Bucky stage whispered urgently. One of Steve's eyebrows quirked up to his hairline.

"Should I be jealous?" he asked the room at large even as Tony laughed and snagged him around the waist to press a kiss to his lips. The tips of Steve's ears burned at the thought of his mother watching, but Tony let him go well before the kiss could be deemed inappropriate.

"Mr. Stark--" Sarah started, but Tony cut her off with a, "Sarah, please. It's 'Tony.'" Sarah smiled brightly, then continued. " _Tony_ so graciously extended to me the invitation to see your new apartment that I should have expected from you days ago, _really_ , Steven." Steve's ears burned even more at that. He'd meant to ask his mother to come--he really did!--but frankly didn't know how to tell her and, in the course of thinking of how to do so, got a little bit distracted by Tony and Tony's mouth.

"I was going to!" he protested, earning a disbelieving eyebrow quirk from his mother.

"I can attest to that," Tony chimed in, leaving Steve where he was to scoop Sarah's hand up and rest it in the crook of his arm. Steve's jaw dropped when Sarah gave an approving smile. And just how unfair was that?! "He didn't know how to tell you, Sarah. You know better than I do how Stevie gets when he's flustered," Tony added in a tone that was just a little bit conspiring. Steve glared at him who only grinned back, unrepentant.

"But now that this has all been settled and Steve's finally here, why don't we go out for dinner? My treat. I know this quaint little French bistro down on fifth that I’m sure you’re going to love if you’re anything like our Stevie." That bistro was was neither quaint nor little, and Steve knew that the food there would make his mother swoon. Tony then made a show of looking Sarah over and tacked on an utterly charming, “You’re certainly as gorgeous as he is.” And Steve saw the exact moment Sarah fell in love with her soon-to-be-if-she-had-anything-to-say-about-it- _Steve-listen-to-your-mother_ son-in-law.

"What the hell happened while I was gone?" Steve whispered urgently at Bucky while Tony chatted up Sarah.

"I don't know!" Bucky whispered back. "I was doing some homework--" Which of course meant he was playing on the Wii Tony hooked them up with. "--when the door flew open, and Tony came strolling in with your mother. Tony gave her a tour before they sat and had tea. I didn't ask, but she didn't look surprised, so he must have said something about the place before they arrived." Steve narrowed his eyes at Tony, who continued to beam at him like a self-satisfied cat. It wasn't like his mother to be swayed by wealth and gallantry, so Steve couldn't help but wonder what Tony had told her.

"Coming, babe?" Tony called out, halfway to the door. Steve turned to Bucky, silently inviting him to come.

"Fuck, no," Bucky answered, shaking his head vehemently. "I am not sitting at the same table as your mother and your boyfriend. You're on your own, pal." He then made a quick retreat to his bedroom, followed by the door slamming behind him.

"Ass," Steve muttered under his breath then turned to Tony and Sarah who were waiting expectantly for him.

This was going to be a long night.


	16. Chapter 16

It surprisingly wasn't a long night.

After dinner, which had pleased Sarah to no end, they set her up in the guest room, then retired to Steve's right after the knowing ‘good night’ Sarah gave them. Tony laughed and whisked Steve into the room, immediately finding himself pressed up against the door and his mouth occupied.

" _Thank you_ ," Steve told him emphatically when they had to part for air. Tony chuckled.

"You've been dithering about it. I figured it would take the pressure off both telling her and introducing me to her. Two birds," he murmured, nuzzling his cheek then pressing a kiss there. Steve caught his mouth in another kiss.

"You're insane," he told Tony.

"Yes, well," Tony grinned. "Figured it would put you deep in my debt." He kissed Steve to within an inch of his life. "And that I'd have so much fun collecting." Steve's eyes fell halfway shut, and he dropped his voice into a breathy baritone.

"And what could I possibly give to ever repay you, Mr. Stark," he asked. Tony's eyes lit up with desire. His hands dropped to cup Steve's ass and give it a hard squeeze that had Steve gasping and rocking up into him, already full mast.

"Oh, I have a few ideas," Tony assured him which was not at all reassuring. They shared a positively _filthy_ kiss before Tony tugged him by the hand to stand at the foot of the bed. 

He left Steve there and sat back on the couch a little ways away, grabbing the remote to the sound system as he went. He fiddled with it momentarily until an undeniably sensual song emanated from the speakers. Steve blushed so hard that he thought the whole room grew just a little warmer. Tony only laughed. "I think you get the idea," he told Steve.

"I... I don't really know how," Steve mumbled and fidgeted nervously. Tony's smile softened.

"Just move your hips and take off your clothes, babe. That's gonna be more than enough for me, 'coz seriously. You're hot," he told him, making Steve snort a laugh.

"Don't laugh," he warned, and Tony made a cross over his heart.

"Never, babe," he promised. Steve took in a deep breath and listened to the music for a moment to find his rhythm. "It helps to close your eyes," Tony suggested, so Steve did just that and swayed his hips to the melody of the music. "Yeah, perfect..." he heard Tony murmur, giving him the courage to lift his hands and hold them behind his neck. "Hold on to the bedpost, and slide down and back up," was Tony's next suggestion. Steve raised his arms to grasp the metal bedpost behind him and swayed his hips in a wide figure 8 as he slipped down to sit on his heels. That was when he opened his eyes to see Tony rubbing himself through his jeans. The wanton lust in his eyes made Steve's dick throb painfully in his jeans.

Riding his own waves of lust, he slid back up and, as sensually as he could, tugged his shirt over his head, pulling it off just in time to see Tony lick his lips. He dragged his hands down his neck to his chest, and with a flush, he cupped his pecs and squeezed and massaged them. Then he rolled his nipples between his thumb and forefinger, and after a second of just playing, pinched them. 

Electricity shot through his body at that, and he nearly fell to his knees. His loud moan, though, was overshadowed by Tony's pained croak, but by then, he couldn't really pay Tony much more attention. His cock throbbed with each pinch he applied as though it was directly connected to his nipples. His hips thrust with each of those throbs, coinciding perfectly with the music as though Steve meant to do just that. Then, when his nipples were good and hard and he was almost on the verge of coming, he willed his hands to move down his stomach, only stopping to hook into the waistband of his jeans.

"Off," Tony ordered, his voice strangled, his cock already jutting out of his jeans. Steve licked his lips, and pushed his jeans and boxers off in one motion. He carefully stepped out of them and grabbed the bedpost. With a sense of confidence he didn't have before, he undulated his body against the post in time with the music, sliding his cock up and down its length. He tossed his head back, letting a moan through as he rubbed himself off against the unforgiving metal. 

"Jesus," Tony moaned. Steve swung himself up onto the bed and with his other hand grasped the other bedpost, though just barely, turning his body to his lover. With both hands pulled wide apart, he gyrated to the music, sliding into a squat with his knees wide apart and back up again. 

"Such a fucking slut," Tony growled, but his voice was almost slurred with lust, so Steve didn't mind his saying so. Tony beckoned him over with the hand that wasn't fisting his cock, and Steve slid straight from his feet to his hands and knees on the floor. 

"Yeah, that's it. Dirty little sluts get to crawl on their hands and knees," he continued to say, and when Steve was close enough grabbed his hair and used that to rub his face all over his cock. "God, look at you," Tony growled as he rubbed himself off on Steve's face. "If only your mom knew what a slut she raised. Stripping as well as any prostitute with her sleeping in the next room. Put your hands behind your back."

"Tony..." Steve choked out, broken. His eyes were burning with unshed tears of lust, of want. Tony knew exactly what to say to get him off.

“I want to fuck your face so bad, Steve,” Tony confessed. “I want to shove my dick down your throat and make you choke until you come.”

“Yes,” Steve begged because that sounded… God. His cock was near pain now with how hard he was. He needed to come, and fuck it, but choking on Tony’s dick while he did sounded like heaven. “Tony, that… Please--I can’t…”

“Beg me, babe,” Tony said, pulling Steve’s head back by his hair and down, down, down, baring his neck and arching his back. Steve struggled to hold his position, his whole body taut with tension and imbalance, through the broken little sounds he couldn’t seem to stop. “I want to hear how badly you want my cock in your mouth, Steve, what you’d be willing to do for me to put it there.”

“God, anything, Tony!” Steve cried out, maybe a little too loud. Tony’s grip in his hair tightened in warning. “I’d do anything, anything you want!”

“Like what, Steve? Tell me what you’d do.” Steve sobbed because it was so, _so_ hard to think. One of Tony’s leather shoes pressed against his balls, gentle enough, but their presence surprising nevertheless, and Steve couldn’t not cry out again. He felt one tear slip down his temple and found his hips moving to rub his balls on the shoe.

“I’d--I’d--” He struggled to think and struggled further to match his thoughts to his voice what with Tony pressing his shoe up harder. “I’d--Tony, please, I can’t--” Tony pulled his head back further. “I’d let you fuck me anywhere…!” That seemed to placate him, so Steve rolled with it. Sobbing, he said, “I’d let you fuck me in your office while you’re in one of those meetings you hate so much. I’d… I’d be naked and sitting on your lap and riding your cock while your board would be trying to talk and ignore us. And you’d tell me to be louder, you’d make me scream because you’d rather listen to me than them.”

“God, yes…” Tony growled. “Go on.”

“I’d let you fuck me in a bar, right in the middle of the dance floor with my pants at my knees, and when you come, you’ll put me on my knees and come all over my face, and you’d let anyone who wanted a turn to come on me too.” Tony suddenly leaned over and bit his neck, growling as he did, and Steve sobbed and leaned into it. “Please--Please, Tony…!” And Tony stood, righting Steve as he did and shoving his dick into his mouth without preamble.

“Not gonna share you,” Tony growled as he made good on his promise and fucked Steve’s throat with wild abandon. Steve gagged and choked on him, his few tears multiplying rapidly and streaming down his face, but Tony didn’t let up. “No one is ever going to see you like this,” he grunted. “To everyone else, you’re my sweet, perfect boyfriend. Only I get to see you like the whore you are.” Steve’s hands grabbed Tony’s thighs for purchase, crying now around Tony’s cock. If he could speak, he’d say yes-- _yes_ , he was Tony’s and Tony’s alone. Instead, he tilted his head back to give Tony better access. He relaxed his throat as best as he could and accepted Tony’s cock into it.

“Fuck, Steve!” Tony swore as he grabbed Steve’s head with both hands and pushed himself in one last time. Steve could feel his cock pulsing and could feel liquid sliding down his throat and he knew that Tony was coming, but that was about all he could grasp because his vision was swimming and darkening at the edges--funny that his body decided to come at that. The orgasm pulled out of him felt like a punch to the gut, but he didn’t have the power to respond to it.

Tony didn’t linger, thankfully. He had to know Steve was lightheaded with the lack of air. He pulled out quickly, the last few drops of come landing on Steve’s cheek and chin, and then fell to his knees in front of Steve. He dragged his tongue over the come on Steve’s face (and fuck him if that wasn’t the hottest thing) then pressed a painful kiss to his mouth.

It was only when Steve’s head started swimming again that he pulled back and allowed Steve to slump onto him.

They held still for a long while, half an hour maybe, just catching their breaths and calming their hearts. Tony stroked Steve’s back repetitively, allowing him to focus on just that, mentally counting each stroke, and when breaths had been caught, Tony laid Steve on his side on the carpeted floor and pillowed the blonde’s head on his lap. There, he resumed his stroking, to his hair this time.

“Are you okay?” he asked gentle. Steve’s tongue felt swollen in his mouth, so he just nodded instead. Tony chuckled. “You bring out the absolute worst in me, Steve,” he confessed, which only confused Steve because what part of that was bad? “We should have had that kind of sex only after long discussions of safewords and limits.” Steve shut his eyes; he didn’t care about those things. He knew what they did was good, felt good, and that was only what he needed to know.

He didn’t know how he got off the carpet and onto the bed--Tony certainly wasn’t strong enough to carry him--but he woke up the next day from an intensely comfortable sleep to find himself wrapped securely in several blankets. Looking around he found a note pinned beneath a steaming mug of coffee.

_Hey, babe. Come have lunch with your mom and me in the kitchen when you’re feeling up to it.  
-Tony_


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So plot alert.
> 
> TBH, I didn't give this chapter as much attention as it deserves given that this is the turning point of the fic, but hopefully, it satisfies whatever needs to be satisfied.
> 
> I'm tagging for sexual assault for unwanted kisses and the relevant body touching and psychological stress that comes along with that. I'm not entirely sure where to draw the line between sexual assault and attempted rape (or if they're one and the same)--anyone who could educate me on this would be thanked--but I didn't want this fic to become too dark. So yeah. Let me know if anything needs to be changed.

"Tony? You here?" Steve called into Tony's condo. He knew he wouldn’t be there just yet because he’d told Steve to come early and wait for him at home. He had a surprise, he’d said, and Steve had rolled his eyes. ‘Another house? Maybe a mansion this time?’ he’d snarked. Tony had kissed him and answered, ‘Nothing like that. I promise.’

So here Steve was, just before lunch, anticipating and dreading Tony’s surprise in equal parts. He tossed his bag into the closet beside the front door and kicked off his shoes into it before making his way to the kitchen. He doubted Tony’s surprise would be food--he had sounded way too excited for that--but he was hungry. Maybe Mr. Jarvis wasn’t too busy and could whip something up for him. Tony’s butler made the meanest sandwiches.

"Mr. Jar--Oh!" Steve remarked as soon as he stepped foot in the kitchen. He didn’t expect to see the man sitting at the kitchen table.

Obadiah Stane sat on one of the stools at the island, a slice of pizza already halfway to his mouth. Upon Steve’s entrance, he blinked in surprise and slowly put the pizza back down.

"Hello, Steve," he greeted, dusting his hands off and holding one out to shake. Steve darted forward and shook it enthusiastically. He'd met Stane several times before when he'd visit Tony at the office and that one time in California (but he tried not to think too much about that trip in front of other people), but he’d never really been alone with the man. He wasn't quite sure how to talk to him, but supposed politeness was the best way to go. Stane, after all, was a trusted business partner and friend.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Stane. Tony didn't tell me you'd be coming over," he said, sitting himself on the stool one seat over from Stane.

"Ah, well, yes. That may be because I didn't tell him I was coming over," Stane chuckled, the pushed the pizza box over. "Pizza?" He'd gotten it from the tiny Italian place both Steve and Tony loved, so with a ‘thank you,’ he gratefully helped himself to a slice. Stane grinned and picked up his slice and resumed eating.

It was awkward, Steve couldn't deny, because Stane was watching him eat and didn't seem intent on offering up anything to talk about, so Steve filled up the silence with idle chatter.

He told Stane, when prompted, about himself, his school, and his friends. He asked Stane about the company which was met with media-ready responses. He asked Stane about his hobbies--golf and tennis, of course. And he asked Stane about Tony.

Stane smiled fondly.

"I've known Tony since he was born. I was his father’s protege," he answered. “Howard Stark taught me everything I know and gave me the opportunities to get where I am today. For that, I will be eternally grateful to the Stark family.” Steve offered back a smile. Stane shrugged and reached for another slice. He leaned back and gestured with the pizza, casual and relaxed, and Steve found himself relaxing as well. "That's how the Starks are. If they take an interest in you, you can be damn sure they'd help you reach bigger and better things." A thought crossed Steve's mind, and he spoke before he could think about it.

"Did you and Tony's dad--" he blurted out and then almost as quickly stopped himself, blushing bright in embarrassment for having done so. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry, that's... That's not any of my business..." Stane stopped for a moment, confused, and then caught on to Steve thoughts quickly enough. He laughed sudden and loud and with genuine amusement, and when he finished, tilted his head in consideration, looking at Steve intently.

"I suppose you're someone I can trust in that you and I are in the same boat," he answered then bit into his pizza. "Yes. Howard and I... We were a bit like Tony and yourself, I suppose."

"Oh."

"It's the easiest way to grab a Stark's attention. The trick is keeping that attention until they noticed you beyond the bedroom, and then--" Stane bit into his pizza again. "--you'll have them in your pocket, if not in your bed." Steve bit his lip to refrain from refuting his words. "You see, Steve, a Stark's attention is fleeting, their love much like fireworks: hot, bright, loud, beautiful beyond what mere words can describe, but over far earlier than you'd want it to be."

Steve didn't quite know what to say to that, and Stane seemed to sense it.

"A year and a half," he said, biting into his pizza like he wasn't ruining Steve's day, Steve's relationship. "Howard and I lasted a year and a half before he moved on to Maria. And her, three, only because they had Tony. They were practically divorced in every way but legally and publicly by the time they died."

"Mr. Stane, I appreciate the insight, but--" Stane turned to him.

"You're a good kid, Steve, and that's why, as one of Tony's oldest and closest friends, I am warning you about him," he spoke as if he had never stopped talking.

"Mr. Stane--"

"You shouldn't sell yourself short, Steve," he continued. "Don't let him ruin you for others because--trust me--in the end, he's not yours to keep."

Steve's mind stuttered. He couldn't... Tony wouldn't... Tony loved him. He said so. He showed so. Steve couldn't imagine them--

He snapped out of his thoughts when Stane shifted to the stool beside him. He blinked once and held perfectly still, stunned like a deer before a lion.

"You're a beautiful boy, Steve," Stane murmured, his voice low and purposeful. "You can go far, and I can help you with that."

Steve suddenly reeled back from the hand that reached for his cheek, but that didn't stop it. Stane cupped his face and stroked his cheek with his thumb. "Mr.--"

Stane kissed him.

He didn't--he had to... He cried out a 'no!' and tore himself away, stumbling over the stool and nearly planting himself on the floor. He picked himself up and staggered back while Stane carefully stood and neared him. Stane caught him against the wall and pinned his wrists against it. Once more, his mouth was on Steve's even when he mumbled over and over 'No! Stop!'

Stane released one wrist to cup his jaw with one hand, tilting his head back and pinning it in place, and immediately, Steve pressed his free hand to Stane's chest and _pushed_. But one hand wasn’t enough to push Stane’s bulk away, so he held fast. He licked his way into Steve's stuttering mouth and pressed himself up against Steve from chest to knees.

"Mr. Stane, stop. _Please_ ," Steve pleaded, his eyes screwed shut and a sob working it's way up his throat. 

"I can be so good for you, Steve. Better than Tony, so much more stable and dependable than Tony," Stane murmured sweetly. He dipped his head to kiss Steve's neck. "I can take you places you could never have achieved before, I can give you anything he can--certainly so much more." Stane shifted, and Steve became impossibly aware of his erection pressing against him.

"Stop!" he cried out in a panic, struggling back, further into the wall. And suddenly... 

Stane did.

In confusion, Steve opened his eyes to see Tony staring down Stane at his feet. Stane was clutching a cheek that was rapidly reddening, and Tony’s eyes looked like it could melt steel beams with the heat them.

"Tony," he said, his voice smarmy and placating. Tony's shoulders heaved with each angered breath. His face was filled with anger. "You don't understand," Stane was saying. "He came on to me!"

"You do _not_ want to go in that direction, Obi," Tony growled. "You are going to lose that argument. And fast." Stane's expression turned from guiltily amused to hard defiance.

"You're going to take that _whore's_ side over _mine_?!" he demanded, indignant. Steve's whole body fliched at the insult. "Me who had helped build our company from the ground up? Me who taught you everything you know? _Me_ who _raised you_ when your drunk of a father couldn't bother?!" 

"Get out," Tony hissed. He stepped back--closer to Steve-- to clear the path to the door, then stabbed his finger at it. "Get the _fuck_ out of my house!" 

Stane stared up at him in shock. 

And then slowly picked himself up off the floor. 

He dusted his clothes off and turned a angry glare to Steve. "He's nothing but trouble, Tony," he said. "He's after your money and nothing more. If you let him, he'll ruin you.” He turned to Tony, his expression less angry, if still hard. “But I’ll wait. When that happens, you’ll come running back to me, telling me I told you so." Tony lifted his chin and took Steve's hand in his. 

"Get out," he repeated, his voice a dangerous hiss. Something on his face, Steve couldn't see, made Stane take a half step back. "And don't bother coming in on Monday." 

Stane spluttered as he stared at Tony for a good, long minute, disbelief and insult on his face. Then his eyes grew hard. 

"And so it begins," he spat, glared at Steve and then stalked out. 

Only when they heard the front door slam shut did the fight bleed out of Tony. 

He spun to Steve and cupped his cheek. "I'm sorry," he said, kissing him once, but Steve pulled him back for another and kissed him hard, deep. He held tight, keeping Tony close to him, keeping their mouths sealed together until the taste of Stane on his tongue was completely replaced by Tony. Only then did he allow Tony to pull back. 

Tony pressed their foreheads together, their eyes both shut. "I'm sorry," he repeated, as if this was _his_ fault. "I'm sorry, Steve, I shouldn't have--" 

"It's... It's not your fault, Tony," Steve cut in because it wasn’t. _It wasn’t_. But his voice nevertheless stuttered on a sob, which he tried to draw back with a harsh breath. It worked for several breaths or so, but the memory of Stane’s mouth on his, of his body trapped against the wall pulled another sob, a harsher one, out of him. 

Tony pulled his head down onto his shoulder and lowered the both of them carefully onto the floor. "It's okay," he whispered even when it wasn’t. It really, really wasn’t. 

Steve buried his face into Tony's shoulder and cried. 


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At this point, I'm just really hoping my fic isn't as cliche'd as I think it is. 
> 
> And if it is, hopefully it's the good kind of cliche.

He had experience with this. 

Extensive experience. 

Years of it, really. 

He'd been in this game for many, many years, enough to take the novelty out of it, but when Steve emerged from his room, dressed to the nines in a custom tuxedo that was quite literally made for him, Tony couldn't quite help feeling giddy and excited for the gala.

"You look..." he tried to say, but there weren't... There weren't _words_ for how Steve looked right now. He'd once wondered how Steve would look in clothes that fit him, and this was beyond expectations. The student blushed and looked down demurely, and wasn't _that_ just the hottest thing in the world?

It was easy to step forward and wrap an arm around his perfectly accentuated waist; so Tony did so. With his other hand, he drew Steve's face closer by his chin and kissed him, gently, but so very thoroughly until he felt Steve half-hard against his own mirroring erection.

"After," Tony promised against his mouth. "After, I will take great relish in slowly stripping you out of that tux and showing you just how hot you looked in it tonight. After." Steve leaned closer to kiss Tony, and then rocked their hips together.

"Or we could do that now," he suggested, and Tony allowed him a few moments more because their cocks sliding against each other's, nevermind that they were still clothed, felt mind-numbingly good. But then he forced himself to stop Steve.

"I know what you're trying to do," he laughed, and stepped back. Steve tried to grab him, but he danced back with another laugh. "No," he said firmly, with a teasing waggle of his finger. Steve stuck his tongue out at him, and Tony laughed, relenting and pulling him back for another kiss. "I'd love to stay here and spend the evening blowing your mind, darling," he confessed. He stroked the lapel of Steve's tux, and smiled when Steve lifted his hand to kiss his fingertips. "And normally, I wouldn't care about ditching functions like this, but this is important." Steve sighed.

"Yes, I know," he agreed. The ball was for the Maria Stark Foundation to thank the donors, solicit more, and recognize the people--like Bruce--who have made incredible contributions to the organization. Tony couldn't have missed it for anything, not if he wanted his foundation to remain one of the best charities out there. Tony kissed Steve once more just because he could.

"Come on, babe. We can make out in the car," he told Steve who laughed again.

He made good on his promise, sitting astride Steve and pressing him into the cushions of the seat as soon as the limo doors shut. One of his hands gripped Steve's wrist tight, and the other tipped his head back as they kissed. Steve's mouth opened for his, pliant and yielding, and Tony took shameless, shameless advantage.

He fucked Steve's mouth with his tongue, stroking everything he could reach--cheeks, tongue, gums, teeth. The sounds Steve made as he lay there, just taking it--God, Tony wanted to fuck him, just take him hard right here just so he could display him to everyone else at his best: utterly debauched and ruined and easily pliant.

"Tell me, Steve," he murmured. "Do you want to come now? I can suck you off right here; we've got fifteen minutes." Steve whined when Tony stroked him through his pants. "Or do you want to wait till later? Until you're hot and aching and can hardly _think_ beyond what I'm going to do to you once we get home." Steve's hand on the back of his head guided his mouth to the underside of his jaw, and Tony knew what he wanted. Not there, though; he didn't think Steve was quite that ready for that kind of media exposure. Instead, he pulled down Steve's collar as far down as it would go and bit into the flesh hidden beneath.

Steve _wailed_. His hips thrust up into Tony's inadvertently and ground their cocks together. That only made Tony bite and suck harder, making sure to leave a throbbing purple mark in Steve's skin.

"W… Would my choice make a difference?" Steve asked through hitching breaths and half moans. Tony smiled around the flesh in his mouth.

"Clever boy," he whispered into the skin beneath Steve's ear. 

Steve whined when he licked at it. "You tell me," he said. Pleaded, really.

"I'll make you wait, of course." Of course, Tony would. "I want you desperate for it." His voice was deliberately low, deliberately rough, deliberately harsh. "I want you begging with every glance, moaning at every touch, every thought, every action devoted to me."

"You are _such_ a tease," Steve answered, breathy and halfway desperate already. Tony bit at his neck, lightly enough not to leave any marks, but hard enough for Steve to _feel_ it. Then he grinned in triumph when Steve's whole body jerked forward.

"Not the worst thing I've been called," Tony told him laughingly. He pressed a kiss to Steve's temple then sat back down. He took Steve's hand into his and pressed a kiss to his knuckles. "Nearly there, darling," he said. 

However, as soon as the hotel came in sight, he looked to Steve to find him suddenly looking nervous. "Hey." Tony tugged him closer and stroked his cheek. "What's wrong?" Steve bit his lip.

"Nothing. Just... nervous, I guess," was his answer. "There's gonna be a lot of reporters there." Tony's fingers tightened around his.

"Only the serious ones, darling," Tony murmured, pressing a kiss to his temple. "The rest of them are banned from entering the hotel." Steve nodded, albeit unsurely. Tony offered him a smile, "You can hide behind me if it gets too much. I won't leave you alone, I promise." This time, Steve's nod was somewhat surer.

The car deposited them in front of a frenzied swarm of people and cameras, to which Tony frowned in confusion. Not that he wasn't capable of dealing with them, but the Maria Stark gala didn't usually warrant _this_ much attention from the paparazzi; this wasn't the Oscars, after all.

Nevertheless, as the car slowed to a stop, he pasted on his best media smile and held tight to Steve, and when Happy held open the door for them, stepped into the fray of noise and flashing lights.

He helped Steve out of the car and wrapped an arm around his waist, keeping him securely at his side and protected from the worst of the lot who Tony could pick out by name and by face (and seriously, Joe Montana was still here? He was pretty sure he flushed that asshole’s career down the toilet a few years back.). The questions came in suddenly and in gradually increasing volume as Tony refused to answer them until they were very nearly screaming at him, thrusting microphones in his face, and blocking his path. His security had to intervene just so they could get moving. For that, he continued to pay them no heed; their articles weren't worth the paper they were printed on. 

But then he realized what the questions actually _were_.

"...Stane fired?"

"Mr. Stark, Mr. Stark! Can you confirm...."

"Our sources say Mr. Rogers was instrumental in...."

"...claims Rogers seduced him..."

"...over your long-time friend Stane?"

"...accepted payment for..."

"Mr. Rogers! How much did you..."

"...handle stock plummets without Stane?"

"Who'll take over the west coast operations?"

"...significant sum of money?"

"...manipulating you?"

Tony stilled imperceptibly.

He should have expected this. He should have come prepared for this. Of course the news would leak before it was formally announced. Of course the press would misinterpret it. Or that Stane would leak the wrong news because he’d been in this game longer than Tony--he knew how the media worked and how best to use it to his advantage. And getting in the first word? 

Big. Fucking. Advantage.

'No comment' would have been his first answer because anything else--even that correcting them, even that declaring the truth--would not have been twisted with gruesome efficiency and malice. They were sharks out at the scent of blood, vultures preying on rottenness.

But then he turned to Steve who looked ashen and horrified in equal parts.

And fuck. Fuckfuck _fuck_ because he was tugging himself away, pulling back towards the car. 

He'd forgotten that Steve wasn't used to this… this _heinousness_ ; he'd forgotten to prepare Steve for it, for baseless accusations and blatant mistruths.

Oh, god how he’d failed.

"Happy," Tony said, quietly, but firmly. Happy barked an order into his comm unit, and seconds later, Tony's entire bodyguard swarmed into the crowd of reporters. They hustled them back, pushed them if necessary, to clear the path so that Tony could hurry Steve into the hotel and away from them.

Safely inside, he gathered Steve into his arms and stroked his cheek. Steve blinked at him, his eyes wide and wet.

"Steve," Tony said, kissing him. He didn't care that they were standing in the middle of the lobby, that patrons and employees alike were watching them. He only cared that Steve looked like he was about to cry.

"They--" Steve started.

" _No_ ," Tony cut him off, harshly at first, then more softly, "No. There is no 'they.' There is no one else beyond this, beyond you and me, understand? Steve, listen." Steve was staring through him, staring at the doors where the cameras were still flashing madly at them. Tony tugged his chin down. "Listen. They were provoking a statement, they were echoing rumors--bad rumors, yes, but you and I know they were lies." Steve blinked, saying nothing. Tony kissed his mouth, gently and thoroughly, trying to convey as much apology and love as he felt. "I'm sorry," he apologized. "I should have thought of this. We should have discussed this and prepared for it. I'm sorry." 

Steve shut his eyes and took a few long moment to think while Tony pressed kisses to his cheek and just held him. Then Steve drew in a deep breath. "Okay," he answered, but his voice held none of the conviction Tony had grown to love in him. "Let's just..." Steve gestured inwards of the hotel, so Tony pressed a kiss to his temple and guided him towards the ballroom.

They were received with polite claps and handshakes. Tony greeted the guests as they would expect for him to--with polite cheer and flirty smiles--but he kept Steve firmly at his side.

He introduced Steve to the who's who at the party, delighted when he could keep conversation with dignitaries and celebrities alike, but his eyes were still worried, darting around as if to look for the cameras from outside. Tony bit his lip and resolved to make it up to him afterwards. He kissed Steve's cheek, just as someone said:

"This is a good look on you."

They turned to see a familiar black man with all the trappings of a Lieutenant Colonel on him.

"Rhodey!" Tony cried in ecstatic surprise. He reached out to give him the best one-armed hug he could with the other still wrapped around Steve. "Pepper didn't tell me you were coming. Where _is_ that woman? She and I need a talk about need-to-know information." He looked around.

"Well, that would have ruined the surprise, wouldn't it? Given you time to hide your boy here," Rhodey said, making a show of looking Steve over. Tony turned to see an awkward blush covering Steve's face.

"Steve Rogers," he said quickly, holding a hand out. Rhodey gave him a shake befitting his stature.

"Lt. Col. James Rhodes," he answered. There was a small grin on his lips. "You can call me James or Jim. Tony calls me Rhodey, and because he's a brat who always gets whatever he wants, suddenly everybody calls me Rhodey, so I guess you can call me that, too." 

Steve was clearly struggling not to laugh. "Pleased to meet you, James," he grinned.

"You planning on letting him out into the wild anytime soon, Tones," Rhodey asked, pointedly eyeing Tony's grip around Steve's waist.

"Seriously, Rhodey," Tony said, gesturing expansively at Steve. "If you had him on your arm, would you let him go?" Steve flushed at the attention, softening Tony's smile and prompting a kiss on his cheek. Tony knew his smile was just a bit sappy because Rhodey acted playfully nauseated.

"Yes, well, here comes that woman you’ve been looking for. I think she wants to prep you for your opening speech," he gestured to Pepper who was striding over. "And as your best friend, it is my duty to take Steve to the bar where I can tell him embarrassing stories about you." To Steve, he said, "I have a _lot_."

"Lies! All lies!" Tony declared to Steve decisively. "And to make sure Rhodey doesn’t fill your head with those horrible, evil lies, I am not letting you go for the rest of the night. You're coming up on stage with me."

"Tony," Steve said, laughter in his tone.

"Tony, we need to talk," Pepper cut in when she finally caught up with them. "Hi, Jim." She leaned over to give Rhodey a kiss on the cheek. "Hi, Steve." Thankfully, she refrained from giving Steve one because he looked like he might just burst into flames of embarrassment. She looked troubled.

"The world's most ominous conversation starter," Tony tried for humor. It wasn't a surprise Pepper levelled a glare at him.

"And shouldn't it be?" she hissed angrily at him. And that's when Tony realized what she was talking about. He dropped his arm from Steve waist and gave him a kiss. Then he nudged him over to Rhodey.

"Go with Rhodey, Steve. I'll be back for you very soon, okay?" he said with full apology in his voice. Steve looked hugely concerned; he wasn't an idiot, so Tony figured he knew it was because of what transpired outside. He only nodded, however, so Tony favored him with another kiss and a whispered 'love you,' then watched as Rhodey--also very concerned--led him away.

Pepper dragged him out the ballroom and to a fairly secluded alcove in the hallway, her voice an urgent whisper. "Tony you fired Obi! You fired Obi and you didn't tell me!"

"I was going to," he whispered back. "It only happened Friday!"

"You _have_ a cellphone! You should have called me! Instead, I find out from these reporters, and I have no statement prepared!"

"Yes, well, if it pleases you, neither do I." 

Pepper glared at him. "You were fine three days ago. What. Happened?" she demanded. Tony ground his teeth in his hesitance to answer, but even he could admit that Pepper needed to know so that she could properly handle this.

"Stark Industries has a zero tolerance policy for sexual assault," he answered shortly. 

Pepper blinked, once, twice.

"Steve?" she asked, hesitant. Tony jerked his head to indicate a nod. She bit her lip.

"Tony..." she started, hesitant, so hesitant in a way that she never was. "That's not what they're saying."

"Of course, it's not," Tony scoffed. "Obi would never release that kind of information. They're accusing Steve of cheating on and manipulating me, of seducing Obi, of whoring himself out to him." Pepper bit her lip once more in careful consideration.

"Tony, that isn't all," she said carefully. Like he needed to be treated with kid gloves. Like _he_ was the victim of assault. Tony would feel indignant, but he knew her well enough to know that if she was talking to him this way, then it was bad. "They're saying that he's a corporate spy." 

Tony’s jaw dropped.

Then he laughed, sudden and loud that not a few heads turned their way.

It ended as suddenly as it began.

"No," he said shortly, then turned his back to her, intent on putting this ridiculous conversation behind them and go fetch his gorgeous, loving, _trustworthy_ boyfriend.

"For the Asgard group," Pepper called out to him, halting him in his tracks.

Thor was Steve's friend and Tony's competitor.

"No," he repeated, but he slowly turned on his heel to face her.

"I know you love him, Tony, but please be rational," Pepper said. She was still being _so careful_ , and Tony was suddenly glad for it because this was dangerous ground, and it was only because he trusted her with his company that he allowed her to continue speaking. "He was the older Odinsson's guest at the Brighton gala."

The gala where they first hooked up. 

"I'm not saying that he is, Tony, but maybe it deserves a looking into. It could help clear Steve's name, at the very least." Tony stared down at his feet, thinking and thinking hard.

He trusted Steve. He did. Steve hadn't given him any indication to think otherwise.

But...

But Thor was Steve's friend, and the means to which they found each other. And Odin, his father, was just as ruthless a businessman as Howard was, as Tony was. If Howard wasn't above sending in a spy or two--and God knows Tony would have done the same if Stark Industries hadn't been beating the competition into the ground since his father’s time--Tony doubted Odin wouldn't.

He shook his head, denial easy on the tip of his tongue.

"This is one of Obi's mind games," he told Pepper. "He's an expert at this. He's covering up his own shortcomings with believable lies. I was there; I saw him assaulting Steve even when he was being pushed back, told to stop."

"And I believe you, Tony," Pepper said. "I believe Obi is enough of an asshole to think that anyone would be willing to prostrate themselves to him for fame and a few measly dollars, I believe he’s using this as a cover up for utter assholishness. But they’re not going to think that.” She threw her hand out to the rest of the party. “Now that the word is out, they’re going to think _you’re_ covering up for Steve. And between Steve and Obi, Obi has the better pull.”

“But not if I vouch for him. Not if it’s ME against HIM!” Tony nearly yelled.

Pepper remained somber and unaffected as she delivered the deciding blow. “The board will demand it.”

The fight flew out of Tony at almost lightspeed.

“It’s _my_ company,” he hissed, petulant and defeated. “It’s my company, it’s my life, and fuck those whiny old bastards, they don’t get to say jack _shit_ about either of those.” Pepper said nothing, simply watched him and waited until he let out a harsh breath.

“Do it,” he conceded shortly. “And when they find nothing on Steve, let me know so that I can tear Stane apart limb from limb.” He turned to head back into the ballroom to collect Steve from Rhodey. Fuck the gala, he was taking Steve home.

“There’s no need for that.”

Tony and Pepper both snapped to see Steve standing a few paces away from their alcove. He wore a brave face and tearful eyes, and Tony’s heart immediately sank to his knees.

“Babe…”

Steve ignored his plea. “There’s no need to bother yourself with that, Ms. Potts. I won’t be one to make your work harder for you.” Tony snagged his wrist before he could even think of leaving and dragged him closer, wrapping his arms around him. Tension was coiled in each of Steve’s muscles even as Tony held him close and stroked his back.

“Steve, stop,” he tried. “Please. This isn’t--It’s a small snag. Nothing Pepper or I can’t handle. It’ll blow over in a few days. I promise.” Tony hoped Steve couldn’t hear the fear in his voice. Steve’s eyes slid shut and he dropped his head onto Tony’s shoulder.

“I can’t…” he whispered, voice small, resigned, pained, and it was everything Tony was afraid of hearing because Steve… He’d been the best thing that’s happened to him.

“Steve,” he tried again, one hand frantically rifling through his jacket. Steve lifted his head enough to see why Tony was wriggling around, so Tony saw the exact moment his eyes grew wide in shock, in comprehension. 

Tony held out a box to him.

A small, velvet box, the size of a fist.

“Tony,” Steve breathed, his eyes filled with awe… and pain.

“Was supposed to give it to you last Friday, but… well, Stane happened, and it didn’t seem like a good time anymore,” Tony explained quickly. He kept his voice low and even, afraid to startle Steve who didn’t seem to have heard him anyway. The student reached out to brush his fingers over the box, and Tony flicked it open with his thumb. Inside sat a simple band of platinum, inlaid with five diamonds side by side. 

“It’s…” Steve started. His hand withdrew, and he looked up.

His face looked _wrecked_.

Tony’s next breath stuttered in his lungs, and he clutched at Steve’s clothes tight because he knew that if he let go now… 

“I’m sorry,” Steve whispered through a small hiccup. Horror and shock filled his voice, as if even he couldn’t believe he was saying these things. Tony felt his eyes burn as Steve continued, “I’m sorry, Tony, I can’t.” He struggled to pull away. “I can’t,” he said as he did, a sob riding on the back of his voice. “This is--Tony--” He finally stopped struggling and pressed his forehead one more against Tony’s shoulder. “I love you,” he whispered. “I’m sorry.”

Tony held him for a moment longer because… because, well. 

People milled around a few paces away from them, craning their heads to see, but none stopping or bothering them, none of them paps, thankfully. Sound emanated from the gala, muffled because the ballroom was soundproofed, but Tony could hear the program starting anyway. He turned to find Pepper missing and figured she’d be stalling for him, but he knew they would be expecting him to speak soon. 

He held Steve for a moment longer.

Eventually, with incredible regret, he drew him back only far enough so that they could look at each other as he spoke. He took the ring out of the box (and maybe chucked the box at some random statue) and took one of Steve’s hands. Steve watched and said nothing as Tony pressed the ring in his palm, harder than was probably necessary, and wrapped his fingers over it.

“It’s yours,” Tony said softly, both of them staring at their hands, neither acknowledging the inevitable. “I had it made for--and… well. It’s yours.” Steve stared at his fist for a long moment. 

And then Tony heard his name being called from inside. He slid his hand over Steve’s cheek and cupped it to tilt it towards him. He kissed him, soft and slow, tracing and mapping his mouth with his tongue, memorizing each dip and groove. If this was going to be his last…

His name was called again, and the door opened with Rhodey softly calling for him. Tony let out a heavy sigh, and pulled back. He stroked Steve’s cheek once more.

“I’ll have Happy take you home.”


	19. Chapter 19

_"The business world is in an uproar when numerous witnesses reported Stark Industries CEO Tony Stark and Fujikawa Enterprises Chairwoman Rumiko Fujikawa together on several occasions, including last night when they were seen leaving Daniel, a restaurant renowned for its excellent cuisine and romantic ambiance. It is unclear whether this rendezvous was for business or pleasure, but whichever case it may be, an alliance between the leader in green technology & consumer electronics and one of the highest-rated vehicle producers on Earth can only bode well for the rest of us. And financial experts seem to agree--stocks are flying off the shelves. Both companies are already up two points by opening time for the New York and Tokyo Stock Exchanges. The world waits on bated breath for an official statement from either party, and we at USA Today will continue to bring you the latest updates."_

Steve turned off the TV and turned back to his painting with practised indifference as had been his emotion of choice when hearing anything about Tony, or else he might have just gone crazy. Tony was _everywhere_ after all--seeing him daily was just a fact of life.

And then there was the fact that Steve couldn't seem to help but continue to track him through the media.

Steve didn't use to be one to pay too much attention to the news--especially that of the business and entertainment kinds--but after Tony, he suddenly found the TV turned inexplicably to magazine shows and business channels. It was a coping mechanism, he told himself, desensitization through overexposure. And it was working (no, really, it was).

What had once been a searing lance to his heart (and wasn't that just the stupidest thing. _He_ broke up with _Tony. Jesus Christ. Man the fuck up, Rogers!_ ) was now a mere throbbing ache. Like his breath had yet to catch up with him. And it took him only a little over a year to get there.

There had been others, of course there were because his friends' concept of healing was--how did Clint put it? Getting right back on that goddamned horse and riding it to completion.

Sharon had been the first, and wow was that a fucking trainwreck right from the start. She was the prettiest cheerleader on the team, captain too because apparently high school cliches weren't just for the movies or for high school. They should have been the perfect couple, which is probably why they weren't. He was too hung up to pay her much attention, she was too ambitious to wait for him to catch up. Steve probably shouldn't have been glad that that ended after only a week.

Robert had come a few months after her, and Steve was proud to say he had found him all on his own. Bob was a member of the student council and was manning the disbursement of the student packages at enrollment when they met. They shared a casual conversation, and it was startlingly easy to invite him for coffee. Eight dates later, Steve felt ready enough to take him to bed.

Except apparently he hadn't been because in the throes of a (fairly unsatisfactory--Bob had _nothing_ on Tony) climax, it was Tony's name he called out. They'd both been mortified and hadn't spoken to each other since, and Steve had been the butt of all jokes in his circle of friends for a solid month.

Then there was Peggy.

Margaret Carter was Sharon's cousin who'd exchanged from the UK during their final year. That had been arguably the best relationship he'd had post-Tony, but that was only because _Peggy_ was the best. The crux of the matter was that no matter how hard they tried to make it work, they didn’t.

It had been a beautiful disaster.

She was gorgeous, sharp, sassy, _perfect_. She understood his angst and didn't care about all the gossip that followed him around. She was _strong_ in all the ways that counted and took care of Steve in all the ways he needed.

In the end, however, she was much too good for him. She deserved so much more than a guy pining over the one that got away.

They'd parted on mutual terms and she'd been roped into the folds of the Commandos. Peggy had become their unofficial manager and Coach Philips' right-hand woman, and oh _God_ did they regret _that_ decision. Peggy rode their asses harder than Phillips did, as if she'd been playing football all her life. To be fair though, she did have a good deal of experience managing the rugby team back at her own school--anyone who could herd a group of players who willingly bashed each other's skulls in with no pads, no helmets (just balls) deserved a great fucking deal of respect.

And maybe there was that time when she decked Dernier in the face when he muttered something crass at her under his breath in French. Steve agreed that he deserved it and smacked the back of his head thereafter.

There had been no one after her--no one after Tony, really, because all those relationships didn't count when they shouldn't have started to begin with.

Tony had ruined him for anyone else.

Steve put his brush down with decisive force. Any more, and he'd overdo it and ruin his favorite piece for his final college art show.

He sat up and stepped back as far as the space in his new, smaller apartment permitted (they'd moved out of Tony's apartment soon after the breakup. Tony had told him to stay, but it really hadn't felt right to do so) and just stared at his piece.

Tony stared right back at him.

_”The Mechanic”_ was its title, and it was an explosion of color, brushstrokes, and drama.

He'd painted Tony in his workshop (or _a_ workshop. No one who hadn't seen it would know that the workshop was specifically Tony's). He was wearing his favorite ratty black tank and had grease running up and down his arms. A welding torch was held aloft and the subject stared at the viewer through the window of his welding mask with bright, smiling eyes.

He supposed that with the mask, the subject could have been any mechanic, and that was exactly the point of his collection: it celebrated a variety of professions, and anyone who saw the collection would see a nurse, a ballerina, a soldier, a pilot, an archer, and a mechanic. But those who knew him would see his mom, Natasha, Bucky, Sam, Clint, and Tony.

"It really is excellent," a voice came from the doorway, and Steve didn't have to turn to see who it was. The accent was a dead giveaway. Peggy came up and wrapped her arms around his waist, resting her chin on his shoulder. "They're all gorgeous, and you should stop fiddling with them or else they're never going to dry by Saturday." Steve laughed.

"I guess so," he answered. She was the only one he allowed to see these because he wanted to surprise his friends with it. They were all going out as gifts for them after the show.

Except Tony. Tony was his.

"Right, so now that you're done, I think we should head down to the field because you are twenty minutes late, and I've recommended twenty laps as your penalty." Steve turned a pout to her.

"Not fair! I was working on my pieces! It's a valid excuse to be late!"

"Yes, of course it would have been had there actually _been_ anything to finish instead of fiddling about with an already perfect piece just so you have an excuse to stare forlornly into his soulful brown eyes." Peggy fluttered her lashes at him, and Steve stuck her tongue out at her. She laughed and shoved him out the door and in the direction of the stadium.

……………

“Tony, Mr. Barton is here,” Pepper called out to him as she opened the door and let Clint step through. Tony looked up briefly and waved to the chair in front of his desk then turned back to his computer.

A thin folder was thrown onto his desk, scattering some other papers, and Tony looked up to glare at Clint only to see him getting comfortable and putting his feet up on the corner of the desk. “There’s your monthly stalker report, and can I once again state for the record how incredibly creepy it is that you get other people to do your stalking for you?” Clint said. Tony level a baleful look at him, but shifted his attention from his computer to the folder anyway. He flipped it open and took out several pictures in there.

“I pay for your salary, your school, your apartment, your utilities, your car, your damn lunch money even. I want to make sure you’re actually doing your job and that you are not squandering my hard earned money,” he told Clint snottily while flipping through the pictures. The bastard only laughed.

“Yeah, let’s go with that.” Tony threw a pen at him, which he caught with ease and laughed once more. 

Ignoring him, Tony stared down at the group selfie Clint had provided him with Steve in the middle and Sam holding the camera out (he was the only one with arms long enough to fit all five of them in the picture).

“At least Steve’s not thinking I’m a pap anymore and just thinks I have a stupid obsession with taking pictures of him,” Clint said conversationally. Tony hummed in thought as he pulled up Clint’s report.

“That’s because you suck at subterfuge,” he said absently. No incidences with Alpha Iota Mu (they had been surprisingly resilient in crossing paths with Steve and his friends, although no incidences had escalated into fist fights since that day), no injuries from training or games, final art show coming up (no record on what Steve was preparing. He’d kept it a secret from his friends, apparently, though Peggy knew, and Tony was _not_ jealous of that.), graduation in a few more weeks, looking into applying for a career in art restoration at the MoMA (Tony made a note to give Ann Temkins a call. She owed him a favor or two), no current love interests.

Tony did not find that last tidbit a little more interesting than the rest.

“Exactly! Natasha would have been much better at this,” the other man groused as Tony read through his report.

“Except that she left SHIELD years ago and somehow ended up being best friends with my--” Tony stopped, caught. He refrained from looking at Clint who was sure to be grinning like an ass, and tacked on quickly, “with Steve.”

“You could have tried waving enough money in her face,” Clint said. Tony snorted. His voice was filled with laughter, but thankfully, he refrained calling Tony out on his slip. “Certainly worked on Nick when he let you pull Coulson out and install him as chancellor. Mind you, I don’t think any amount of money is going to get Coulson on your side now, not when he has to run both an entire university _and_ SHIELD security.”

“Nick could always learn to take responsibility in running his own damn agency,” Tony said, finally daring to look up into Clint’s amused face. Clint lifted both eyebrows in incredulity. “No, you’re right. I should give Coulson a bonus.” Clint nodded sagely. “Or maybe I could get you tiny little lace panties. Purple, you like purple, right? Does Coulson like that sort of thing?” Clint laughed and threw the pen at Tony’s face. It hit his forehead, but Tony pretended not to notice.

Tony put the photos back in the folder and folded it shut. Then he leaned back against his chair. “How is he?” he asked. He didn’t want to ask, but he couldn’t help but do so. It was probably why he always asked Clint to deliver his reports personally.

“Like you. Still moping over your failed relationship, no matter that it’s been over a year now,” Clint shut his eyes and leaned his head back to feign indifference even though, really, it was to allow Tony his privacy. Fuck him, though; it wasn’t like Tony was going to start bawling.

“It has been, hasn’t it,” Tony mused softly. He reached out and straightened his desk so that he could have something to fiddle with. 

Clint peeked open an eye when the silence stretched out. 

“What could I have done?” Tony finally sighed and tipped his head back. His eyes slid shut and immediately filled with the memories of Steve’s smile. It was rhetorical, really, but like the many other times he had uttered it in the past, Clint answered.

“For one, you shouldn’t have proposed because really, Stark? All the warning signs were up that Steve was looking to bolt and you pull a ring out? _Really_?” Like all the other times Clint brought that up, Tony laughed without a trace of amusement, with only sardonic self-depreciation. He never really found a decent answer to that. “And two.” A paper clip hit his forehead, and he opened his eyes to glare at Clint. Instead of amused, though, Clint’s face was serious. “You should have gone after him.”

“He doesn’t want--” ‘Me’ was both the right and wrong word to use, so Tony changed it before he could say it. “--this life. He hated it, the gifts, the intrigue, the fucking paps. He wouldn’t have been happy.”

“Yeah, but he wanted-- _wants_ you, you dick, but now he thinks he doesn’t deserve you because in a fit of panic, he dumped you. So instead of talking to you like a rational adult, he continues to mope around and unintentionally sabotage any potential relationship he could have. And instead of _you_ talking to him like a rational adult, you continue to mope around and stalk him.” Clint alternated between insightful advice and crude jokes. He must have decided now was a good time to be nice.

“Says that rational adult,” Tony shot back because being an ass was easier to stomach than admitting Clint was right.

“Yeah, yeah, what do I know? I’ve only been in a loving, committed relationship for five years now.” Clint rolled his eyes and stood up. “I’ll see you next month, then. Hopefully, you’ve gotten your shit together by the time I come around.”


	20. Chapter 20

Steve wasn't ashamed to say he was hiding.

The senior exhibit was held in a bright and airy hall that had enough space to hold the entire student population of Wagner College comfortably (and currently held not even half that), and he felt like he was suffocating in it.

Questions and attention hounded and closed in on him from left and right, despite his friends’ best efforts to deter them. Curiosity, amusement, morbid fascination, and outright intrusiveness harangued him from the moment he stepped away from the mic after giving the speech about his collection required of him.

He, apparently, hadn't done well enough to hide his subject's identities because as soon as viewers identified one, they identified all the others, up to and including Tony. And even though it was easy enough to deny or evade anyone who asked, Steve had never been one who could lie to save his life, and there were those there that pushed for the answers they wanted--regardless of the truth and common decency--like it was their job to do so. 

Actually, it _was_ their job because the exhibit was to showcase the newest artists to the world. Thus, it was a media-open event, and apparently, one and a half years wasn't enough for them to forget "Tony Stark's longest relationship."

So there he was, stuttering his way through the audience’s attention until his professor took enough pity on him and called up the next student, and even then, much of the media had lost its interest in the exhibitors after him and instead followed Steve to his corner. For a moment, he cursed his professor for making him stand there and speak, he cursed the media for forcing him to field off questions like 'Have you and Mr. Stark remained in contact?' all evening, and he cursed his classmates for feeding their curiosity because who else could have pointed out that all his subjects were the people in his life?

And the worst part of it wasn't even that they were hounding him.

That part, he could struggle with; that part, he could eventually learn to deal with. The worst part was that they were hounding him, and he had nothing to show for it. He’d broken up with Tony on the assumption that this--the cameras, the intrusive questions, the morbid curiosity, the intrigue--would all stop when he did so, and the fact that it didn’t? It rubbed salt in the already gaping wound in his heart.

So he was hiding out at the back of building, sitting on a planter, and fiddling with a lit cigarette.

"Guests aren't allowed back here you know?"

Steve froze.

He recognized the voice and the words immediately. How could he not? They were permanently etched in his brain. He refused, however, to acknowledge that they were more than a dream, more than wishful thinking because Tony wouldn't be here. Why would he? Steve broke up with him ages ago.

"If you share, though, I won't tell."

Steve squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head.

"Well, that's rude," was the last thing he heard before a pair of polished shoes came into his line of sight and pants immediately after. Then a hand reached out and tipped his chin up, and he found himself staring into the smiling brown eyes of Tony Stark.

"Hi, Steve," he said with a warm smile, and Steve couldn't breathe.

Words were lost in his head, and his tongue felt heavy in his mouth, so he said nothing, and for that, they stared at each other for the longest time, unmoving. Until Tony did.

He took Steve's cigarette (and Steve couldn't miss the way Tony's fingers caressed his when he did) and stared at it. Then he tilted his head to the side and spoke. "' _I was inspired by my friends and the glimpses into their future, their hopes, and their aspirations. I wanted to show to them how they could look, how I would see them when they finally achieve that dream._ '" Tony was clearly quoting his speech from earlier. Steve said nothing.

' _And "The Mechanic”? That’s Tony Stark, isn’t it?_ ’ had been the question that had interrupted him. Steve had frozen then, unprepared as he was, which he really shouldn’t have been.

"You were there," Steve murmured, his voice brimming with disbelief.

"I wouldn't have missed it for the world," Tony answered.

"But... _why_?" Steve asked. Steve begged. He left Tony. Turned down his proposal and broke his heart. He shouldn't even want to hear Steve's name, much less see and talk to him. Tony's smile never faded though and he reached out to cup Steve's cheek.

"Do I _really_ have to answer that?"

"Well, kinda. Yes. I just--" Steve stopped before his voice could break. He swallowed and shut his eyes. "You're here."

Tony's mouth on his made him jerk forward before he simply allowed the kiss, allowed Tony to give and take exactly as much as he wanted. 

And Tony _wanted_.

What had started soft, gentle, hesitant, turned deep in a matter of moments. Tony pushed his mouth harder against Steve's and cradled his face to pull him closer. Steve's hands went for the back of Tony's jacket and twisted themselves there as Tony swiped his tongue across his lips. They parted for him immediately, and his tongue darted in to stroke Steve's, and when it did, a sob startled them apart.

Steve placed a hand over his mouth, half to keep Tony's taste there, half to hold back another sob. It was a wasted effort as another bubbled out of him and a tear tracked its way down his cheek.

Tony leaned forward and pressed a kiss to each of his leaking eyes, which only served to pull several more sobs out of him, but Tony's eyes were wet too, so it didn't much matter.

He darted forward and buried his face in Tony's neck. He sobbed freely now, uncaring as Tony held him tightly. Tight enough to make him understand that he was _never letting go_.

"I'm sorry," Steve hiccupped.

"Shh..." Tony murmured, stroking his hair. "It's alright."

"No. No, it's not," Steve insisted. He wanted to push Tony back so that he could look in his eyes just so that he could convey exactly how he felt, but he couldn't. He couldn't relinquish this, Tony's hold, his warmth, the smell of his perfume. "Not having you made the past year meaningless. I thought it was the right thing to do for us... for me. I thought I could bear it. But." 

Tony kissed his hair and cut him off. "I should have stopped you. I should have come after you," he murmured. His arms tightened around Steve's shoulders. "But I thought this was what you wanted, and I refused to believe--" He stopped and tipped Steve's face up. Steve allowed him to do so and was rewarded with a deep kiss. "I thought all the time about winning you back, about whisking you off your feet and making you forget all about leaving me again. But then, I also thought you didn't want all the baggage that came with being with me, and I respected that."

"If by baggage, you mean paparazzi and Stane, then yes I don't," Steve said. Determination colored his voice. "But I realized... I realized that if it meant I had you? I'd… I don’t know, I’d run buck ass naked in front of them."

A surprised laugh was punched out of Tony. For a second they stopped, surprise stilling them. And then another laugh followed the first, and then they were laughing and crying and kissing.

Steve was drowning in Tony's mouth, and he didn't want to be saved.

"I'd rather have them in our lives than have you out of mine," he continued when he could. His eyes were shut and remained shut in the irrational fear that this was all some cosmic joke and that Tony was here to tell him he was never taking him back.

Tony did nothing of the sort and instead kissed his forehead. "I'd have waited for you for years--for forever if I had to. You've ruined me for anyone else, Steve Rogers," he confessed. And funny, that was exactly how Steve had felt about him. "And I'm never going to let you go."

Tony tugged him back so that they could see eye to eye. He opened his mouth to speak.

But Steve beat him to it.

"Marry me," Steve blurted.

Tony blinked once, and then twice.

And then a grin formed over his lips.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out another velvet box. Steve laughed and took it out of Tony's hands. He flipped the box open, gazed at it for a moment then turned it to face Tony."Marry me," he repeated, his voice surer than before.

"That's not going to fit me," Tony laughed. "I had that made for you. Again. And your fingers are _huge_."

"You're calling my fingers fat?" Steve grinned, and it was ridiculous and easy and perfect because he was stupid and he shouldn't have let Tony go, but he wasn't going to make the same mistake twice.

"Not fat. Never fat. Your fingers are big boned," Tony teased, pressing a kiss to said fingers. With his mouth still there, he looked up at Steve through his eyelashes. "I wouldn't mind getting fucked by them, to be honest."

Steve laughed and pulled him close for a kiss by the back of his neck. He fumbled to take the too-big ring out of the box and push it onto Tony's finger. Then he reached into his suit and pulled out the first one Tony had given him, hung on a chain around his neck. Tony pulled back to look at it while Steve unhooked it from his neck. The chain slid through the ring, and Steve pressed the latter into Tony’s hand.

“Put it on me?” he asked.

"I knew you wouldn't lose it," Tony murmured, rolling it between his thumb and index. Then he took Steve's hand and slipped it right on his ring finger.

Their eyes met over their joined hands, and it suddenly felt like the world was the right way up again.

"I love you," Tony said as he leaned forward to kiss him again.

"I love you," Steve answered and met him halfway there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that. Is. A. Wrap!
> 
> What had been a simple thank you fic and an excuse to spoil Steve Rogers had turned into my longest fic (chapter-wise at least) to date. I'm still not too sure about the ending, but I figured, meh. I've put it off for long enough. Let me know if you think it worked or not ^^
> 
> Thank you to all who stuck with me from beginning to end. You guys rock! It's people like you who encourage people like me to continue writing even when I feel like what I've done isn't the best out there.
> 
> I'd also like to thank Hazzial who'd helped me towards the end by betaing for me. Looking forward to working with you a whole lot more, darling! And I have tons of upcoming fics, so prepare your inbox ^^
> 
> Hugs to all!

**Author's Note:**

> I'm also on [Tumblr](renai-chan.tumblr.com) if anyone's interested. I'm pretty boring on it, though, so... yeah.


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